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Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge  at  6i 


LETTERS 


OF 


SAMUEL  TAYLOR  COLERIDGE 


EDITED   BY 


ERNEST   HARTLEY   COLERIDGE 


IN   TWO   VOLUMES 
VOL.   II 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND   COMPANY 

'CI^E  fii\)crsibe  pres?,  CambciDoe 

1895 


Copyright,  1895, 
By  HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  CO. 

All  rights  reserved. 


T7te  Tiiverside  Press,  Cambridge,  Masf.,  U.  S.  A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  0.  Houghton  &  Co. 


••  •  •       •       • 


•  •• 


. .    . .  •  •  '.*••.  ;  '  • 


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:.v.  :.:•::   •  -.   •    -  •:•::>•.     '.  '.-   •  •;- 
,.   ..*.•..•   •  • .  .  •  •  • 


A4 

CONTENTS   OF   VOLUME   II 


CHAPTER  VII.     A  LONG  ABSENCE,  1804-1806. 

Page 
CXLIV.  Richard  Sharp,  January  1.5,  1804.     (Life  of  Words- 
worth, 1889,  ii.  9) 447 

CXLV.  Thomas  Poole,  January  15,  1804.     (Forty  lines  pub- 
lished, Thomas  Poole  and  his  Friends,  1887,  ii.  122)     .     4.52 
CXLVI.  Thomas  Poole  [January  26,  1804]  .         ,         ,         .454 

CXLVII.  The  Wordsworth  Family,  February  8, 1804.    (Life  of 

Wordsworth,  1889,  ii.  12) 456 

CXLVIII.  Mrs.  S.  T.  Coleridge,  February  19,  1804       .         .         .460 

CXLIX.  Robert  Southey,  February  20,  1804      .         .         .         .464 

CL.  Mrs.  S.  T.  Coleridge,  April  1,  1804      .        .        .        .467 

CLI.  Robert  Southey,  April  16,  1804 469 

CLIL  Daniel  Stuart,   April  21,  1804.      (Privately  printed. 

Letters  from  the  Lake  Poets,  p.  33)      ....     475 

CLin.  Mrs.  S.  T.  Coleridge,  June,  1804 480 

CLIV.  Daniel  Stuart,  October  22,  1804.      (Privately  printed, 

Letters  from  the  Lake  Poets,  p.  45)      ....     485 
CLV.  Robert  Socthey,  February  2,  1805         ....     487 
CLVI.  Daniel  Stuart,   April  20,  1805.     (Privately  printed, 

Letters  from  the  Lake  Poets,  p.  46)      ....     403 
CLVII.  Mrs.  S.  T.  Coleridge,  July  21,  1805      ....    496 
CLVIII.  Washington  Allston,  June  17, 1806.    (Scribner's  Maga- 
zine, January,  1892) 498 

CLIX.  Daniel  Stuart,  August  18,  1800.      (Privately  printed. 

Letters  from  the  Lake  Poets,  p.  54)      .         .         .         .501 

CHAPTER  VIII.     HOME  AND  NO  HOME,    1806-1807. 
CLX.  Daniel  Stuart,  September  15, 1806.     (Privately  printed, 

Letters  from  the  Lake  Poets,  p.  60)      ....     505 

CLXI.  Mrs.  S.  T.  Coleridge,  September  IG  [1806]  .         .         .507 

CLXII.  Mrs.  S.  T.  Coleridge,  December  25,  1806       .         .         .509 

CLXIII.  Hartley  Coleridge,  April  3,  1807       .        .        .        .511 

CLXIV.  Sir  H.  Davy,  September  11,  1807.     (Fragmentary  Re-      . 

mains,  1858,  p.  99) 514 

CHAPTER  IX.    A  PUBLIC  LECTURER,  1807-1808. 
CLXV.  The  Morgan  Family  [November  23,  1807]    .         .         .519 
CLXVI.  Robert  Southey  [December  14,  1807]  .        .        .520 


Ji.^^\J 


iv  CONTENTS 

CLXVII.  Mrs.  Moroan,  January  25,  1808         .         .         .         .524 
CLXVllI.  Francis  Jkkfrky,  May  23,  1808       ....    527 

CLXIX.  Francis  Jkkfrey,  July  20,  ISOS        .        .        .        .528 

CHAPTER   X.    GRASMERE  AND  THE  FRIEND,  1808-1810. 
CLXX.   Damii.    Stiakt    [D.cembor   0,    180S].     (Privately 

piiiitfd,  Li'tters  froui  the  Lake  Poets,  p.  O.'l)  .         .     533 
CLXXI.  Francis  Jkkfrey,  December  14,  1808.     (Illustrated 

London  News,  June  10,  18!):!)  ....     5.34 

CLXXU.  Thomas  Wilkinson,  December  31,  1808.     (Friends' 

Quarterly  Ma<jazine,  June,  1893)     ....     538 
CLXXIII.  TiiOMAsPoOLE.  February  3,  1800.    (Fifteen lines  pub- 

lisliud,  Tlionia.s  Poole  and  his  Friends,  18S7,  ii.  2li8).     541 
CLXXIV.  Daniel  Stiart,  March  31 ,  1800.     (Privately  printed. 

Letters  from  the  Lake  Poets,  p.  13(i)       .         .         .     545 
CLXXV.  Daniel  .Stuart,  June  13,  1800.     (Privately  printed. 

Letters  from  the  Lake  Poets,  p.  lf)5)       .         .         .     547 
CLXXVI.  Thomas  Poole,  October  9, 1800.     (Thomas  Poole  and 

his  Friends,  1887,  ii.  233) 550 

CLXXVII.  Roi'.ERT  SouTHEY,  December,  1800   ....     5.54 
CLXXVIII.  Thomas  Poole,  January  28,  1810      .        .        .        .556 

CHAPTER   XI.     A  JOURNALIST,   A   LECTURER,  A  PLAY- 
WRIGHT, 1810-1813. 
CLXXIX.  Mrs.  S.  T.  Coleridge.  Spring,  1810  .         .         .     .563 

CLXXX.  Th«  Morgans,  December  21,  1810     .         .         .         .564 
CLXXXI.  W.  Godwin,  March  15,  1811.     (WiUiam  Godwn,  by 

C.  Kegan  Paul.  ii.  222) 565 

CLXXXII.  Daniel  Stl^vrt,  June  4,  1811.     (Gentleman's  Maga- 
zine, 1838) 566 

CLXXXIH.  Sir  G.  Beaumont,  December  7, 1811.    (Memorials  of 

Coleorton.  1887,  ii.  158) 570 

CLXXXIV   J.  J.  Morgan,  February  28,  1812       ....     575 

CLXXXV.  Mrs.  S.  T.  Coleridge.  April  21,  1812       .         .         .     .579 

CLXXXVL  Mrs.  S.  T.  Coleridge,  April  24,  1812        .        .         .583 

CLXXXVH.  Charles  Lamb,  May  2,  1812 586 

CLXXXVIII.  William  Wordsworth,  May  4,  1812        .        .        .588 
CLXXXIX.   Daniel  Stuart,  May  8,  1812.     (Privately  printed, 

Letters  from  the  Lake  Poets,  p.  211)       .         .         .     595 
CXC.  William  Wordsworth,  May  11,    1812.     (Life  of 

Wordsworth,  1889,  ii.  180) 506 

CXCL  RoHERT  SouTHEY  [M.ay  12.  1812]       .         .         .         .597 
CXCII.  William  Wordsworth,  December  7,  1812.     (Life 

of  Wordsworth,  ISSO.  ii.  181)         .         .         .         .599 
CXCIII.  Mrs.  S.  T.  Coleridge  [January  20,  1813]  .     602 

CXCIV.  Robert  Southey,  February  8,   1813.     (lUustr.ated 

Loudon  News,  June  24, 1894)         ....     005 


CONTENTS  V 

CXCV.  Thomas  Poole,  February  13,  1813.  (Six  lines  pub- 
lished, Thomas  Poole  and  his  Friends,  1887,  ii. 
244) G09 

CHAPTER   XII.     A  MELANCHOLY  EXILE,  1S13-1815. 
CXCVI.  Daxikl  Stuart,    September  2o,  1813.     (Privately 

printed.  Letters  from  the  Lake  Poets,  p.  219)  .     615 

CXCVII.  Joseph  Cottle,  April  2G,   1814.     (Early  RecoUec- 

tions,  1837,  ii.  155)  .......     616 

CXCVIIL  Joseph  Cottle,  May  27,  1814.    (Early  Recollections, 

1837,  ii.  165) 619 

CXCIX.  Charles    Mathews,    May    30,    1814.     (Memoir  of 

C.  Mathews,  1838,  ii.  257) 621 

CC.  Josiah  Wade,  June  26,  1814.     (Early  Recollections, 

1837,  ii.  185) 623 

CCI.  John  Murray,  August  23,  1814.     (Memoir  of  John 

Murray,  1890,  i.  297) 624 

CCII.  Daniel  Stuart,  September  12,   1814.      (Privately 

printed,  Letters  from  the  Lake  Poets,  p.  221)  .     627 

CCIII.  Daniel    Stuart,    October     30,     1814.      (Privately 

printed,  Letters  from  the  Lake  Poets,  p.  248)         .     634 
CCIV.  John  Kenyon,  November  3  [1814]    ....     639 
CCV.  Lady  Beaumont,  April  3, 1815.    (Memorials  of  Cole- 

orton,  1887,  ii.  175) 641 

CCVI.  William  Wordsworth,   May  30,  1815.     (Life   of 

■   Wordsworth,  1889,  ii.  255) 643 

CCVII.  Rev.  W.  Money,  1815 651 

CHAPTER  XIII.    NEW  LIFE  AND  NEW  FRIENDS,  1816-1821. 

CCVIII.  James  Gillman  [April  13, 1816].   (Life  of  Coleridge, 

1838,  p.  273) 657 

CCIX.  Daniel  Stuart,  May  8,  1816.     (Privately  printed. 

Letters  from  the  Lake  Poets,  p.  255)       .         .         .     660 
CCX.  Daniel  Stuart,  ^[ay  13,  1816.      (Privately  printed, 

Letters  from  the  Lake  Poets,  p.  262)       .         .         .     663 
CCXI.  John  Murray,  February  27,  1817      ....    665 

CCXIL  Robert  SouTHEY  [May,  1817] 670 

CCXIII.  II.  C.  Robinson,  June,  1817.    (Diary  of  H.  C.  Robin- 
son, 1869,  ii.  57) 071 

CCXIV.  Thomas  Poole  [July  22,  1817].     (Thomas  Poole  and 

his  Friends,  1887,  ii.  255) 673 

CCXV.  Rev.  H.  F.  Cary,  October  29,  1817   .        .        .        .676 

CCXVI.  Rev.  H.  F.  Cary,  November  6,  1817  ....     677 

CCXVII.  Joseph  IIenky  Green,  November  14,  1817       .        .    679 

CCXVIIL  Joseph  Henry  Green  [December  13,  1817]     .         .     680 

CCXIX.  Charles  Augustus  Tulk.  1818         .        .        .        .684 

CCXX.  Joseph  Henry  Green,  May  2,  1818         .        .        .688 


( 


VI 


CCXXI. 
CCXXII. 

CCXXlll 


ccxxiv. 

ccxxv. 

rrxxvi 

ccxxv  11. 

CCXXVIII. 

CCXXIX 


CONTENTS 

Mrs.  Gillsian,  July  10,  ISIS 

\V.  CoLMNs,  A.  R.  A.,  December,  1818.  (Memoirs  of 
W.  Collins.  1848,  i.  14li) 

Thomas  All.sop,  December  2,  1818.  (Letters,  Con- 
versations, and  Recollections  of  S.  T.  Coleridge, 
ISJt),  i.  5) 

Joseph  Henry  Green,  January  16,  1819. 

James  Gillman,  August  20,  1810 

Mus.  Ai>EKs  [?],  October  28,  1819      . 

Joseph  Henry  Green  [January  14,  1820] 

Joseph  Henry  Green,  May  25,  1820 

Charles  Augustus  Tulk,  February  12,  1821  . 


CHAPTER  XIV.    THE  PHILOSOPHER  AND  DIVINE,  1822- 

CCXXX.  John  Murray,  January  18,  1822        .        .        .        . 

CCXXXI.  Jajies  GiluvL/VN,  October  28,  1822.   (Life  of  Coleridge, 

1838,  p.  344) 

CCXXXI  I.  Miss  Brent,  July  7,  1823  .... 
CCXXXI  H.  Rev.  Edward  Coleridge,  July  23,  1823 
CCXXXIV.  Joseph  Henry   Green,  February  1.5,  1824 
CCXXXV.  Joseph  Henry  Green,  May  10,  1824 
CCXXXVI.  James  Gillman,  November  2,  1824  . 
CCXXXVII.  Rev.  II.  F.  Caky,  December  14,  1824 
CCXXXVIII.  William  Wordsworth   [?   182.5].      (Fifteen  lines 
published,  Life  of  Wordsworth,  1889,  ii.  305) 
CCXXXIX.  John  Taylor  Coleridge,  April  8,  1825  . 
CCXL.  Rev.  Edward  Coleridge,  May  19, 1825  . 
CCXLI.  Daniel  Stuart,  July  9,  1825.     (Privately  printed. 
Letters  from  the  Lake  Poets,  p.  280) 
CCXLII.  James  Gillman,  October  10,  1825      .        .        .        . 
CCXLIIl.  Rev.  Edward  Coleridge,  December  9,  1825    . 
CCXLIV.  Mrs.  Gillman.  May  3,  1827       ... 
CCXLV.  Rev.  George  May  Coleridge,  January  14,  1828    . 
CCXLVI.  George  Dyer,  June  6,  1828.     (The  Mirror,  xxxviii. 

1841,  p.  282) 

CCXLVII.  George  Cattermole,  August  14,  1828    . 
CCXLVIII.  Joseph  Henry  Green,  June  1,  1830 
CCXLI  X.  Thomas  Poole,  1830  .... 

CCL.  Mrs.  Gillman,  1830 

CCLI.  Joseph  Henry  Green,  December  15,  1831 
CCLII.  II.  N.  Coleridge,  February  24,  18.32 
CCLI II.  Miss  Lawrence,  March  22,  18.32 
CCLIV.  Rev.  H.  F.  Cary,  AprQ  22,  1832.    (Memoir  of 

Cary.  1847.  ii.  104) 

CCLV.  JouN  Peirse  Kennard,  August  13,  1832 


H.  F. 


GOO 


093 


695 
699 
700 
701 
704 
706 
712 

1832. 
717 

721 
722 
724 
726 
728 
729 
731 

733 
734 

738 

740 
742 
744 
745 
746 

748 
750 
751 
753 
754 
754 
756 
758 

760 
762 


I 


CONTENTS  vii 

CHAPTER  XV.    THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END,  1833-1834. 
CCLVI.  Joseph  Henry  Green,  AprQ  8,  1833        .        .        .767 

CCLVII.  Mrs.  Aders  [1833] 769 

CCLVIII.  John  Sterling,  October  30,  1833      .        .        .        .771 
CCLIX.  Miss  Eliza  Nixon,  July  9,  1834        ....     773 
CCLX.  Adam  Steinmetz  Kennard,  July  13,  1834.     (Early 

Recollections,  1837,  ii.  193) 775 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


Page 
Samuel  Taylor  Colekldge,  aged  sixty-one.     From  a  pencil-sketch 

by  J.  Kayser,  of  Kaserworth,  now  in  the  possession  of  the  editor. 

Fronti^iece 

Mks.  Wilson.     From  a  pencil-sketch  by  Edward  Nash,  1816,  now  in 

the  possession  of  the  editor       460 

Hartley  Coleridge,  aged  ten.  After  a  painting  by  Sir  David  Wil- 
kie,  R.  A.,  now  in  the  possession  of  Sir  George  Beaumont,  Bart.  .     .  510 

The  Room  in  Mr.  Gillman's  House,  The  Grove,  Highgate,  which 
served  as  study  and  bedroom  for  the  poet,  and  in  which  he  died. 
From  a  water-colour  drawing  now  in  the  jjossession  of  Miss  Chris- 
tabel  Coleridge,  of  Cheyne,  Torquay 616 

Derwent  Coleridge,  aged  nineteen.  From  a  pencil-sketch  by  Ed- 
ward Nash,  now  in  the  possession  of  the  editor 704 

The  Reverend  George  Coleridge.  From  an  oil  painting  now  in 
the  possession  of  the  Right  Honourable  Lord  Coleridge 746 

Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge,  aged  (about)  fifty-six.  From  an  oil 
painting  (taken  at  the  Argyll  Baths),  now  in  the  possession  of  the 
editor 758 


CHAPTER   VII 
A  LONG  ABSENCE 

1804-1806 


CHAPTER  VII 

A  LONG   ABSENCE 

1804-1806 

CXLIV.    TO   RICHARD   SHARP.^ 

King's  Arms,  Kendal, 
Sunday  morning,  January  15,  1804. 

My  dear  Sir,  —  I  give  you  thanks  —  and,  that  I  may 
make  the  best  of  so  poor  and  unsubstantial  a  return, 
permit  me  to  say,  that  they  are  such  thanks  as  can  only 
come  from  a  nature  unworldly  by  constitution  and  by 
habit,  and  now  rendered  more  than  ever  impressible  by 
sudden  restoration  —  resurrection  I  mio-ht  sav  —  from  a 
long,  long  sick-bed.  I  had  gone  to  Grasmere  to  take  my 
farewell  of  William  Wordsworth,  his  wife,  and  his  sis- 
ter, and  thither  your  letters  followed  me.  I  was  at  Gras- 
mere a  whole  month,  so  ill,  as  that  till  the  last  week  I  was 
unable  to  read  your  letters.  Not  that  my  inner  being 
was  disturbed ;  on  the  contrary,  it  seemed  more  than 
usually  serene  and  self-sufficing  ;  but  the  exceeding  pain, 
of  which  I  suffered  every  now  and  then,  and  the  fearful 
distresses  of  my  sleep,  had  taken  away  from  me  the  con- 
necting link  of  voluntary  power,  which  continually  com- 
bines that  part  of  us  by  which  we  know  ourselves  to  be, 
with  that  outward  picture  or  hieroglyphic,  by  which  we 
hold  communion  with  our  like  —  between   the  vital  and 

1  Richard      Sharp,       1759-1835,  of  Wordsworth's,  and  on   intimate 

known  as  "  Convei'sation  Sharp,"  a  terms  with  Coleridg-e  and  Southey. 

banker,  Member  of  Parliament,  and  Life  of  W.  Wordsworth,  i.  377  ;  Let- 

distinguished  critic.   He  was  a  friend  ters  of  R.  Southey,  i.  279,  et  passim. 


448  A  LONG  ABSENCE  [Jan. 

the  or^janie  — -  or  wliat  Boikeloy,  I  suppose,  would  call 
miiiil  and  its  sensuous  lan<^uago.  I  had  only  just  strength 
enough  to  smile  gratefully  on  my  kind  nurses,  who  tended 
me  with  sister's  and  mother's  love,  and  often,  I  well 
know,  we])t  for  me  in  their  sleep,  and  watehed  for  me 
even  in  their  dreams.  Oh,  dear  sir!  it  does  a  man's 
heart  good,  1  will  not  say,  to  know  such  a  family,  but 
even  to  know  that  there  is  such  a  family.  In  sjiite  of 
Wordsworth's  occasional  fits  of  hypochondriacal  uncom- 
fortableness,  —  from  which,  more  or  less,  and  at  longer 
or  shorter  intervals,  he  has  never  been  wholly  free  from 
his  very  childhood,  —  in  spite  of  this  hypochondriacal 
graft  in  his  nature,  as  dear  Wedgwood  calls  it,  his  is 
the  happiest  family  I  ever  saw,  and  were  it  not  in  too 
great  symjiathy  with  my  ill  health  —  were  I  in  good 
health,  and  their  neighbour  —  I  verily  believe  that  the 
cottage  in  Grasmere  Vale  would  be  a  proud  sight  for 
Phil()S()ph3\  It  is  with  no  idle  feeling  of  vanity  that  I 
speak  of  my  importance  to  them ;  that  it  is  /,  rather  than 
another,  is  almost  an  accident ;  but  being  so  very  happy 
within  themselves  they  are  too  good,  not  the  more,  for 
that  very  reason,  to  want  a  friend  and  common  object  of 
love  out  of  their  household.  I  have  met  with  several 
genuine  Philologists,  Philonoists,  Physiophilists,  keen  hun- 
ters after  knowledge  and  science ;  but  truth  and  wisdom 
are  higher  names  than  these  —  and  revering  Davy,  I  am 
half  angry  with  him  for  doing  that  which  would  make  me 
laugh  in  another  man  —  I  mean,  for  prostituting  and 
profaning  the  name  of  "Philosopher,"  "great  Philoso- 
pher," "eminent  Philosopher,"  etc.,  etc.,  etc.,  to  every 
fellow  who  has  made  a  lucky  experiment,  though  the  man 
should  be  Frenchified  to  the  heart,  and  though  the  whole 
Seine,  with  all  its  filth  and  poison,  flows  in  his  veins  and 
arteries. 

Of  our  common  friends,  my  dear  sir,  I  flatter  myself 
that  you  and  I  should  agree  in  fixing  on  T.  Wedgwood 


I 


1804]  TO   RICHARD   SHARP  449 

and  on  Wordsworth  as  genuine  Philosophers — for  I 
have  often  said  (and  no  wonder,  since  not  a  day  passes 
but  the  conviction  of  the  truth  of  it  is  renewed  in  me, 
and  with  the  conviction,  the  accompanying  esteem  and 
love),  often  have  I  said  that  T.  Wedgwood's  faults  im- 
press me  with  veneration  for  his  moral  and  intellectual 
character  more  than  almost  any  other  man's  virtues ;  for 
under  circumstances  like  his,  to  have  a  faidt  only  in  that 
degree  is,  I  doubt  not,  in  the  eye  of  God,  to  possess  a  high 
virtue.  Who  does  not  prize  the  Retreat  of  Moreau  ^  more 
than  all  the  straw-blaze  of  Bonaparte's  victories?  And 
then  to  make  it  (as  Wedgwood  really  does)  a  sort  of 
crime  even  to  think  of  his  faults  by  so  many  virtues 
retained,  cultivated,  and  preserved  in  growth  and  blossom, 
in  a  climate — where  now  the  gusts  so  rise  and  eddy,  that 
deejDly  rooted  must  that  be  which  is  not  snatched  up  and 
made  a  plaything  of  by  them,  —  and,  now,  "  the  parching 
air  burns  frore." 

W.  Wordsworth  does  not  excite  that  almost  painfully 
profound  moral  admiration  which  the  sense  of  the  exceed- 
ing difficulty  of  a  given  virtue  can  alone  call  forth,  and 
which  therefore  I  feel  exclusively  towards  T.  Wedgwood ; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  he  is  an  object  to  be  contem- 
plated with  greater  complacency,  because  he  both  deserves 
to  be,  and  is,  a  happy  man ;  and  a  happy  man,  not  from 
natural  temperament,  for  therein  lies  his  main  obstacle, 
not  by  enjoyment  of  the  good  things  of  this  world  —  for 
even  to  this  day,  from  the  first  dawn  of  his  manhood,  he 
has  purchased  independence  and  leisure  for  great  and 
good  pursuits  by  austere  frugality  and  daily  self-denials  ; 
nor  yet  by  an  accidental  confluence  of  amiable  and  happy- 
making  friends  and  relatives,  for  every  one  near  to  his 
heart  has  been  placed  there  by  choice  and  after  know- 

^  Jean  Victor  Moreau,  1763-1813.  Archduke  Charles  at  Nereshcim,  in 
The  "retreat"  took  place  in  Octo-  the  preceding  August.  Biographical 
ber,  1796,  after  his   defeat  of  the     Dictionary. 


450  A  LONG  ABSENCE  [Jan. 

lednv  ami  (Mlbevatlon ;  but  he  is  a  happy  man,  because 
lie  is  :i  l*liiU).si>i)hc'r,  because  he  knows  the  intrinsic  value 
of  the  tlilYerent  objects  of  human  pursuit,  and  regulates 
his  wishes  in  strict  subordination  to  that  knowledge ; 
because  he  feels,  and  with  ?i  practical  faith,  the  truth  of 
that  which  you,  more  than  once,  my  dear  sir,  have  with 
equal  good  sense  and  kindness  pressed  upon  me,  that  we 
can  do  but  one  thing  well,  and  that  therefore  we  must 
make  a  choice.  lie  has  made  that  choice  from  his  early 
youth,  has  pursued  and  is  pursuing  it ;  and  certainly  no 
small  i>art  of  his  hai)piness  is  owing  to  this  unity  of 
interest  and  that  homogeneity  of  character  which  is  the 
natural  consequence  of  it,  and  which  that  excellent  man, 
the  poet  Sotheby,  noticed  to  me  as  the  characteristic  of 
Wordsworth. 

Wordsworth  is  a  poet,  a  most  original  poet.  He  no 
more  resembles  Milton  than  Milton  resembles  Shakespeare 
—  no  more  resembles  Shakcs])eare  than  Shakespeare  re- 
sembles Milton.  He  is  himself  and,  I  dare  affirm  that,  he 
will  hereafter  be  admitted  as  the  first  and  greatest  })hilo- 
sophical  poet,  the  only  man  who  has  effected  a  complete 
and  coustant  synthesis  of  thought  and  feeling  and  com- 
bined them  with  poetic  forms,  with  the  music  of  pleasur- 
able passion,  and  with  Imagination  or  the  modifying  power 
in  that  highest  sense  of  the  word,  in  which  I  have  ventured 
to  oppose  it  to  Fancy,  or  the  agffregating  power  —  in  that 
sense  in  which  it  is  a  dim  analogue  of  creation  —  not  all 
that  we  can  believe,  but  all  that  we  can  conceive  of  crea- 
tion. —  Wordsworth  is  a  poet,  and  I  feel  myself  a  better 
poet,  in  knowing  how  to  honour  him  than  in  all  my  own 
poetic  compositions,  aU  I  have  done  or  hope  to  do  ;  and 
I  proi)hcsy  inunortality  to  his  "Recluse,"  as  the  first  and 
finest  philosophical  poem,  if  only  it  be  (as  it  imdoubt- 
edly  will  l)e)  a  faithful  transcript  of  his  own  most  august 
and  innocent  life,  of  his  own  habitual  feelings  and  modes 
of  seeing  and  hearing.  —  My  dear  sir !  I  began  a  letter 


1804]  TO  RICHARD   SHARP  451 

with  a  heart,  Heaven  knows  !  how  full  of  gratitude  toward 
you  —  and  I  have  flown  off  into  a  whole  letter-full  respect- 
ing Wedgwood  and  Wordsworth.  Was  it  that  my  heart 
demanded  an  outlet  for  grateful  feelings  —  for  a  long 
stream  of  them  —  and  that  I  felt  it  would  be  oiDpressive 
to  you  if  I  wrote  to  you  of  yourself  half  of  what  I  wished 
to  write  ?  Or  was  it  that  I  knew  I  should  be  in  sympathy 
with  you,  and  that  few  subjects  are  more  pleasing  to  you 
than  a  detail  of  the  merits  of  two  men,  whom,  I  am  sure, 
you  esteem  equally  with  myself  —  though  accidents  have 
thrown  me,  or  rather  Providence  has  placed  me,  in  a 
closer  connection  with  them,  both  as  confidential  friends 
and  the  one  as  my  benefactor,  and  to  whom  I  owe  that 
my  bed  of  sickness  has  not  been  in  a  house  of  want,"  unless 
I  had  bought  the  contrary  at  the  price  of  my  conscience 
by  becoming  a  jjriest. 

I  leave  this  place  this  afternoon,  having  walked  from 
Grasmere  yesterday.  I  walked  the  nineteen  miles  through 
mud  and  drizzle,  fog  and  stifling  air,  in  four  hours  and 
thirty-five  minutes,  and  was  not  in  the  least  fatigued,  so 
that  you  may  see  that  my  sickness  has  not  much  weakened 
me.  Indeed,  the  suddenness  and  seeming  perfectness  of 
my  recovery  is  really  astonishing.  In  a  single  hour  I 
have  changed  from  a  state  that  seemed  next  to  death, 
swollen  limbs,  racking  teeth,  etc.,  to  a  state  of  elastic 
health,  so  that  I  have  said,  "  If  I  have  been  dreaming, 
yet  you,  Wordsworth,  have  been  awake."  And  Words- 
worth has  answered,  "  I  could  not  expect  any  one  to  be- 
lieve it  who  had  not  seen  it."  These  changes  have  always 
been  produced  by  sudden  changes  of  the  weather.  Dry 
hot  weather  or  dry  frosty  weather  seem  alike  friendly  to 
me,  and  my  persuasion  is  strong  as  the  life  within  me,  that 
a  year's  residence  in  Madeira  would  renovate  me.  I  shall 
spend  two  days  in  Liverpool,  and  hope  to  be  in  London, 
coach  and  coachman  permitting,  on  Friday  afternoon  or 
Saturday  at  the  furthest.     And  on  this  day  week  I  look 


452  A  LONG  ABSENCE  [Jan. 

forward  to  tlie  pleasure  of  thaukin*;^  you  personally,  for  I 
still  hope  to  avail  myself  of  your  kind  introductions.  I 
mean  to  wait  in  London  till  a  good  vessel  sails  for  Madeira ; 
but  of  this  wlien  I  see  you. 

Ik'lieve  me,  my  dear  sir,  with  grateful  and  affectionate 
thanks,  your  sincere  friend, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CXLV.   TO   THOMAS   POOLE. 

Kendal,  Sunday,  January  15,  1804. 

My  dear  Poole,  —  My  health  is  as  the  weather.  That, 
for  the  last  month,  has  been  unusually  bad,  and  so  has  my 
health.  I  go  by  the  heavy  coach  this  afternoon.  I  shall 
be  at  Liverj^ool  tomorrow  night.  Tuesday,  Wednesday,  1 
shall  stay  there ;  not  more  certainly,  for  I  have  taken  my 
place  all  the  way  to  London,  and  this  stay  of  two  days  is 
an  indidgence  and  entered  in  the  road-bill,  so  I  expect  to 
be  in  London  on  Friday  evening  about  six  o'clock,  at  the 
Saracen's  Head,  Snow  Hill.  Now  my  dearest  friend !  will 
you  send  a  twopenny  post  letter  directed,  "  Mr.  Coleridge 
(Passenger  in  the  Heavy  Coach  from  Kendal  and  Liver- 
pool), to  be  left  at  the  bar,  Saracen's  Head,  Snow  Hill," 
informing  me  whether  I  can  have  a  bed  at  your  lodgings, 
or  whether  Mr.  Eickman  coidd  let  me  have  a  bed  for  one 
or  two  nights,  —  for  I  have  such  a  dread  of  sleeping  at  an 
Inn  or  Coffee  house  in  London,  that  it  quite  unmans  me 
to  think  of  it.  To  love  and  to  be  beloved  makes  hothouse 
plants  of  us,  dear  Poole  ! 

Though  wretchedly  ill,  I  have  not  yet  been  deserted  by 
hope  —  less  dejected  than  in  any  former  illness  —  and  my 
mind  has  been  active,  and  not  vaguely,  but  to  that  deter- 
minate purpose  which  has  employed  me  the  last  three 
months,  and  I  want  only  one  fortnight  steady  reading  to 
have  got  all  my  materials  before  me,  and  then  I  neither 
stir  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left',  so  help  me  God !  till  the 
work  is  finished.     Of  its  contents,  the  title  will,  in  part, 


1804]  TO   THOMAS   POOLE  453 

iufornl  you,  "  Consolations  and  Comforts  from  tlie  exer- 
cise and  right  application  of  the  Reason,  the  Imagination, 
the  Moral  Feelings,  Addressed  especially  to  those  in  sick- 
ness, adversity,  or  distress  of  mind,  from  speculative 
gloom,^  etc."  -^ 

I  put  that  last  phrase,  though  barbarous,  for  your  in- 
formation. I  have  puzzled  for  hours  together,  and  could 
never  hit  off  a  phrase  to  express  that  idea,  that  is,  at  once 
neat  and  terse,  and  yet  good  English.  The  whole  plan  of 
my  literary  life  I  have  now  laid  down,  and  the  exact  order 
in  which  I  shall  execute  it,  if  God  vouchsafe  me  life  and 
adequate  health ;  and  I  have  sober  though  confident  ex- 
pectations that  I  shall  render  a  good  account  of  what  may 
have  appeared  to  you  and  others,  a  distracting  manifold- 
ness  in  my  objects  and  attainments.  You  are  nobly  em- 
ployed, —  most  worthily  of  you.  You  are  made  to  endear 
yourself  to  mankind  as  an  immediate  benefactor :  I  must 
throw  my  bread  on  the  waters.  You  sow  corn  and  I  plant 
the  olive.  Different  evils  beset  us.  You  shall  give  me 
advice,  and  I  will  advise  you,  to  look  steadily  at  every- 
thing, and  to  see  it  as  it  is  —  to  be  willing  to  see  a  thing 
to  b-^  evil,  even  though  you  see,  at  the  same  time,  that  it 
is  for  the  present  an  irremediable  evil ;  and  not  to  over- 
rate, either  in  the  convictions  of  your  intellect,  or  in  the 
feelings  of  your  heart,  the  Good,  because  it  is  present  to 
you,  and  in  your  power  —  and,  above  all,  not  to  be  too 
hasty  an  admirer  of  the  Rich,  who  seem  disposed  to  do 
good  with  their  wealth  and  influence,  but  to  make  your 
esteem  strictly  and  severely  proportionate  to  the  worth  of 
the  Agent,  not  to  the  value  of  the  Action,  and  to  refer  the 
latter  wholly  to  the  Eternal  Wisdom  and  Goodness,  to 

^  This    phrase    reappears    in    the  gloom"  and   finally  to    "dejection 

first  issne  (1808)  of  the  Prospectus  of  mind."     See  letter  to  F.  Jeffrey, 

of  The  Friend.     Jeffrey,  to  whom  the  December    14,    1808,   published    in 

Prospectus  was  submitted,  objected  the  Illustrated  London  News,  JunelO, 

to  the  wording,  and  it  was  changed,  1893.     Letter  CLXXI. 
in   the    first   instance,   to    "mental 


45-i 


A  LONG   ABSENCE 


[Jan. 


God,  upon  whom  it  wholly  clepeucls,  and  in  whom  alone  it 
has  a  moral  worth. 

I  love  and  honour  you,  Poole,  for  many  things  —  scarcely 
for  anything;  more  than  that,  trusting  firmly  in  the  recti- 
tude and  simplieity  of  your  own  heart,  and  listening  with 
faith  to  its  revealing  voice,  you  never  suffered  either  my 
subtlety,  or  my  eloquence,  to  proselytize  you  to  the  per- 
nieious  doctrine  of  Necessity. ^  All  praise  to  the  Great 
Being  wlio  has  graciously  enabled  me  to  find  my  way  out  of 
that  labyrinth-den  of  sophistry,  and,  I  woidd  fain  believe, 
to  brinir  with  me  a  better  clue  than  has  hitherto  been 
known,  to  enable  others  to  do  the  same.  I  have  convinced 
Southey  and  Wordsworth ;  and  W.,  as  you  know,  was,  even 
to  extravagance,  a  Necessitarian.  Southey  never  believed 
and  abhorred  the  Doctrine,  yet  thought  the  argument  for 
it  unanswerable  by  luunan  reason.  I  have  convinced  both 
of  them  of  the  sophistry  of  the  argiiment,  and  wherein  the 
sophism  consists,  viz.,  that  all  have  hitherto  —  both  the 
Necessitarians  and  their  antagonists  —  confounded  two 
essentially  different  things  under  one  name,  and  in  conse- 
quence of  this  mistake,  the  victory  has  been  always  hollow, 
in  favor  of  the  Necessitarians. 

God  bless  you,  and  S.  T.  Coleridge. 

P.  S.  If  any  letter  come  to  your  lodgings  for  me,  of 
course  you  will  take  care  of  it. 


CXLVI.     TO   THE   SAME. 

[January  26,  1804.] 

My  dearest  Poole,  —  I  have  called  on  Sir  James 
Mackintosh,^  who  offered  me  his  endeavours  to  procure 


^  See  concluding  paragraph  of 
Introductory  Address  of  Condones 
ad  Foj'iulnin  (February,  170.")) ;  The 
Friend,  Section  L,  Essay  xvi. ;  Cole- 
ridge's Works,  1853,  ii.  307.  For 
recantation  of  Necessitarianism,  see 


footnote  (1797)  to  lines  "  To  a  Friend, 
together  with  an  Unfinished  Poem." 
Poetical  Works,  p.  3S. 

^  Stuart  is  responsible  for  a  story 
that  Coleridge's  dislike  and  distrust 
of  the  "  fellow  from  Aberdeen,"  the 


1804]  TO   THOMAS   POOLE  455 

me  a  place  under  him  in  India,  of  which  endeavour  he 
would  not  for  a  moment  doubt  the  success ;  and  assured 
me  on  Ms  Honour^  on  his  Soul! !  (N.  B.  his  Honour! !) 
(N.  B.  his  Soul!!)  that  he  was  sincere.  Lillibullero 
ahoo !  ahoo  !  ahoo  !     Good  morning-,  Sir  James  I 

I  next  called  on  Davy,  who  seems  more  and  more 
determined  to  mould  himself  upon  the  Age,  in  order  to 
make  the  Age  mould  itself  upon  him.  Into  this  language 
at  least  I  could  have  translated  his  conversation.  Oh,  it 
is  a  dangerous  business  tliis  bowing  of  the  head  in  the 
Temple  of  Rimmon ;  and  such  men  I  aptly  christen 
Theo-mammonists^  that  is,  those  who  at  once  worship 
God  and  Mammon.  However,  God  gi-ant  better  things 
of  so  noble  a  work  of  His !  And,  as  I  once  before  said, 
may  that  Serpent,  the  World,  climb  around  the  club 
which  supports  him,  and  be  the  symbol  of  healing ;  even 
as  in  Tooke's  "  Pantheon,"  ^  you  may  see  the  tiling 
done  to  your  eyes  in  the  picture  of  Escidapius.  Well ! 
now  for  business.  I  shall  leave  the  note  among  the 
schedules.     They  will  wonder,  plain,  sober  people  !   what 

hero  of  The  Two  Round  Spaces  on  a  friend's  cause  -with  unnecessary  ve- 
Tombstone,  dated  from  a  visit  to  the  heraence.  Gentleman's  Magazine, 
Wedgwoods  at  Cote  House,  when  May,  1838,  p.  485. 
Mackintosh  outtalked  and  outshone  ^  The  Pantheon.  By  Andrew 
his  fellow  proteg^,  and  drove  him  Tooke.  Revised,  etc.,  for  the  use 
in  dudgeon  from  the  party.  But  in  of  schools.  London:  1791. 
1838,  when  he  contributed  his  arti-  "  Tooke  was  a  prodigious  fa- 
des to  the  Gentleman  s  Magazine,  vourite  with  us  (at  Christ's  Hospi- 
Stuart  had  forgotten  much  and  tal).  I  see  before  me,  as  vividly 
looked  at  all  things  from  a  different  now  as  ever,  his  Mars  and  Apollo, 
point  of  view.  For  instance,  he  says  his  Venus  and  Aurora  —  the  Mars 
that  the  verses  attacking  Mackin-  coming  on  furiously  in  his  car; 
tosh  were  never  published,  whereas  Apollo,  with  his  radiant  head,  in 
they  appeared  in  the  Morning  Post  the  midst  of  shades  and  fountains ; 
of  December  4,  1800.  A  more  prob-  Aurora  with  hers,  a  golden  dawn  ; 
able  explanation  is  that  Stuart,  who  and  Venus,  very  handsome,  we 
was  not  on  good  terms  with  his  thought,  and  not  looking  too  modest 
brother-in-law,  was  in  the  habit  of  in  '  a  slight  cymar.' "  Autobiogra- 
confiding  liis  grievances,  and  tliat  phy  of  Leigh  Hunt,  p.  75. 
Coleridge,    more  sua,   espoused    his 


456 


A  LONG  ABSENCE 


[Feb. 


damn'cl  madcap  has  got  among  tliem ;  or  rather  I  will 
put  it  uiuh'i-  the  letter  just  arrived  for  you,  that  at  least 
it  may  perhaps  be  under  the  Itoae} 

Well,  ouce  again.  I  will  try  to  get  at  it,  but  I  am 
laniling  on  a  surfy  shore,  and  am  always  driven  back 
upon  the  open  sea  of  various  thoughts. 

I  dine  with  Davy  at  five  o'clock  this  evening  at  the 
Prince  of  Wales's  Coffee  House,  Leicester  S(piare,  an 
he  can  give  us  three  hours  of  his  company ;  and  I  beseech 
you  do  make  a  point  and  come.  God  bless  you,  and  may 
His  Grace  be  as  a  pair  of  brimstone  gloves  to  guard 
against  dirty  diseases  from  such  bad  company  as  you  are 
keeping  —  Rose  ^  and  Thomas  Poole  !  — ! ! ! 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

T.  Poole,  Esq.,  Parliament  Office. 

[Note  in  Poole's  handwriting :  "  Very  interesting  jeu 
d'esprit^  but  not  sent."] 


CXLVII.     TO   THE   WORDSWORTHS. 

DuNMOW,  Essex,  Wednesday  night,  \  past  11, 
February  8,  1804. 

My  DEAREST  Friends,  —  I  must  write,  or  I  shall 
have  delayed  it  till  delay  has  made  the  thought  painful  as 
of  a  duty  neglected.  I  had  meant  to  have  kept  a  sort  of 
journal  for  you,  but  I  have  not  been  calm  enough  ;  and 
if  I  had  kept  it,  I  should  not  have  time  to  transcribe,  for 
nothins:  can  exceed  the  bustle  I  have  been  in  from  the 
day  of  my  arrival  in  town.     The  only  incident  of  any 


^  See  note  infra, 

2  George  Rose,  1744-1818,  states- 
man and  political  writer.  lie  had 
recently  brought  in  a  bill  -which 
' '  authorised  the  sending  to  all  the 
Pari.sh  Overseers  in  the  country  a  pa- 
per of  questions  on  the  condition  of 
the  poor."  Poole,  at  the  instance  of 
John  Rieknian,  secretary  to  Speaker 
Abbot,  was  at  this  time  engaged  at 


Westminster  in  drawing  up  an  ab- 
stract of  the  various  returns  which 
had  been  made  in  accordance  with 
Sir  George  Rose's  bill.  See  Letter 
from  T.  Poole  to  T.  Wedgwood, 
dated  September  14,  1803.  Cot- 
tle's Reminiscences,  pp.  477,  478; 
T/iomas  Poole  and  his  Friends,  iL 
107-114. 


1804]  TO  THE  WORDSWORTHS  457 

extraordiuary  interest  was  a  direful  quarrel  between 
Godwin  and  me/  in  which,  to  use  his  own  phrase  (unless 
Lamb  suggested  it  to  him),  I  "  thundered  and  lightened 
with  frenzied  eloquence  "  at  him  for  near  an  hour  and  a 
half.  It  ended  in  a  reconciliation  next  day ;  but  the 
affair  itself,  and  the  ferocious  spirit  into  which  a  j^^us- 
quam  sujjicit  of  punch  had  betrayed  me,  has  sunk  deep 
into  my  heart.  Few  events  in  my  life  have  grieved  me 
more,  though  the  fool's  conduct  richly  merited  a  flogging, 
but  not  with  a  scourge  of  scorpions.  I  wrote  to  Mrs. 
Coleridge  the  next  day,  when  my  mind  was  full  of  it,  and, 
when  you  go  into  Keswick,  she  will  detail  the  matter,  if 
you  have  nothing  better  to  talk  of.  My  health  has 
greatly  improved,  and  rich  and  precious  wines  (of  several 
of  which  I  had  never  before  heard  the  names)  agree 
admirably  with  me,  and  I  fully  believe,  most  dear  Wil- 
liam !  they  would  with  you.  But  still  I  am  as  faithful 
a  barometer,  and  previously  to,  and  during  all  falling 
weather,  am  as  asthmatic  and  stomach-twitched  as  when 
with  you.  I  am  a  perfect  conjuror  as  to  the  state  of  the 
weather,  and  it  is  such  that  I  detected  myself  in  being 
somewhat  flattered  at  finding  the  infallibility  of  my  un- 
comfortable feelings,  as  to  falling  weather,  either  coming 
or  come.  What  Sicily  may  do  for  me  I  cannot  tell,  but 
Dalton,^  the  Lecturer  on  Natural  Philosophy  at  the  R. 
Institution,  a  man  devoted  to  Keswick,  convinced  me  that 
there  was  five  times  the  duration  of  falling  weather  at 
Keswick  compared  with  the  flat  of  midland  counties,  and 
more  than  twice  the  gross  quantity  of  water  fallen.  I 
have  as  yet  been  able  to  do  nothing  for  myself.  My 
plans  are  to  try  to  get  such  an  introduction  to  the  Cap- 
tain of  the  war-ship  that  shall  next  sail  for  Malta,  as  to 

^  See  Letter   to   Southey  of  Feb-  his?  researches  on  the  atomic  theory, 

ruary  20,  1804.     Letter  CXLIX.  which  he  had  be^un  in  180:^,  in  his 

2  John  Dalton,  1700-1844,  ehem-  New  System  of  Chemical  Philosophy, 

ist  aud  meteorologist.    He  published  in  1808.     Biographical  Dictionary, 


458  A  LOKG  ABSENCE  [Feb. 


be  taken  as  liis  friend  (from  Malta  to  Syracuse  is  but  six 
hours  passage  in  a  spallanza).  At  Syracuse  I  shall  meet 
with  a  hearty  weleonu'  from  Mr.  Leeky,  the  Consul,  and 
I  h(>j)e  to  be  able  to  have  a  letter  from  Lord.  Nelson  to 
the  Convent  of  lienedictines  at  Catania  to  receive  and 
lodge  me  for  such  time  as  I  may  choose  to  stay.  Catania 
is  a  pleasant  town,  with  jdeasant,  hosi)itable  inhabitants, 
at  the  foot  of  Etna,  though  fifteen  miles,  alas !  from  the  j 
woody  region.  Greenough  ^  has  read  me  an  admirable, 
because  most  minute,  journal  of  his  Sights,  Doings,  and 
Done-untos  in  Sicily. 

As  to  money,  I  shall  avail  myself  of  £105,  to  be  repaid 
to  you  on  the  first  of  January,  1805,  and  another  <£100, 
to  be  employed  in  paying  the  Life  Assurance,  the  bills  at 
Keswick,  Mrs.  Fricker,  next  half  year ;  and  if  any  re- 
main, to  buy  me  comforts  for  my  voyage,  etc.,  Dante  and 
a  dictionary.  I  shall  borrow  part  from  my  brothers,  and 
part  from  Stuart.  I  can  live  a  year  at  Catania  (for  I 
have  no  plan  or  desire  of  travelling  except  up  and  down  \ 

Etna)  for  £100,  and  the  getting   back  I  shall   trust  to 
chance. 

O  my  dear,  dear  friends !  if  Sicily  should  become  a 
British  island,  —  as  all  the  inhabitants  intensely  desire  it 
to  be,  —  and  if  the  climate  agreed  with  you  as  well  as  I 
doubt  not  it  will  with  me,  —  and  if  it  be  as  much  cheaper 
than  even  Westmoreland,  as  Greenough  reports,  and  if  I 
coidd  get  a  Vice-Consulship,  of  which  I  have  little  doubt, 
oh,  what  a  dream  of  ha])i)iness  could  we  not  realize  I  But 
mortal  life  seems  destined  for  no  continuous  happiness, 
save  that  which  results  from  the  exact  performance  of 
duty  ;  and  blessed  are  you,  dear  William  !  whose  p;ith  of 
duty  lies  through  vine-trellised  elm-groves,  through  Love 
and  Joy  and  Grandeur.     "  O  for  one  hour  of  Dundee  !  "^ 

^  His  old  fellow-student  at  Got-  "  In  the  Pass  of  Killicranky." 
tingen.  Wordsworth's  Poetical  Works,  1889, 

»  "  O  for  a  HiiiRle  lioiir  of  tliat  Dundee,  p.  201. 

Who  on  tliat  day  the  word  of  onset 
gave." 


1804]  TO  THE  WORDSWORTHS  459 

How   often   shall  I  sigh,   "  Oh !   for  one  hour  of  '  The 
Recluse ' !  " 

I  arrived  at  Dunmow  on  Tuesday,  and  shall  stay  till 
Tuesday  morning.  You  will  direct  No.  116  Abingdon 
St.,  Westminster.  I  was  not  received  here  with  mere 
kindness ;  I  was  welcomed  almost  as  you  welcomed  me 
when  first  I  visited  you  at  Racedown.  And  their  solici- 
tude and  attention  is  enough  to  effeminate  one.  Indeed, 
indeed,  they  are  kind  and  good  people ;  and  old  Lady 
Beaumont,  now  eighty-six,  is  a  sort  of  miracle  for  beauty 
and  clear  understanding  and  cheerfulness.  The  house  is 
an  old  house  by  a  tan-yard,  with  nothing  remarkable  but 
its  awkward  passages.  We  talk  by  the  long  hours  about 
you  and  Hartley,  Derwent,  Sara,  and  Johnnie  ;  and  few 
things,  I  am  laersuaded,  would  delight  them  more  than  to 
live  near  you.  I  wish  you  would  write  out  a  sheet  of  verses 
for  them,  and  I  almost  promised  for  you  that  you  should 
send  that  delicious  poem  on  the  Higldand  Girl  at  Invers- 
nade.  But  of  more  importance,  incomparably,  is  it,  that 
Mary  and  Dorothy  should  begin  to  transcribe  all  William's 
MS.  poems  for  me.  Think  what  they  will  be  to  me  in 
Sicily  !  They  shovdd  be  written  in  pages  and  lettered  up 
in  parcels  not  exceeding  two  ounces  and  a  quarter  each, 
including  the  seal,  and  three  envelopes,  one  to  the  Speaker, 
imder  that,  one  to  John  Rickman,  Esqre,  and  under  that, 
one  to  me.  (Terrible  mischief  has  happened  from  foolish 
people  of  R.'s  acquaintance  neglecting  the  middle  envelope, 
so  that  the  Speaker,  opening  his  letter,  finds  himself 
made  a  letter  snuiggler  to  Nicholas  Noddy  or  some  other 
unknown  gentleman.)  But  I  will  send  you  the  exact 
form.  The  weight  is  not  of  much  importance,  but  better 
not  exceed  two  ounces  and  a  quarter.  I  will  write  again 
as  soon  as  I  hear  from  you.  In  the  mean  time,  God  bless 
yon,  dearest  William,  Dorothy,  Mary,  S.,  and  my  god- 
child. 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 


4G0  A  LONG  ABSENCE  [Feb. 

CXLVIII.    TO    HIS    WIFE. 

February  19,  1804. 

"J.  Tobin,  Esqre.,1  No.  17  Barnard's  Inn,  Ilolborn. 
For  Mv.  Cok'riilge."  So,  if  you  wish  me  to  answer  it 
by  return  of  post :  but  if  it  be  of  no  consequence,  whether 
I  receive  it  four  hours  sooner  or  four  hours  hiter,  then 
direct  "  Mr.  Lainbe,''^  East  India  House,  London." 

1  did  not  receive  youi-  last  letter  written  on  the  "  veiy, 
very  windy  and  very  cold  Sunday  night,"  till  yesterday 
afternoon,  owing  to  Poole's  neglect  and  forgetfidness. 
But  Poole  is  one  of  those  men  who  have  one  good  quality, 
namely,  that  they  always  do  one  thing  at  a  time ;  but  who 
likewise  have  one  defect,  that  they  can  seldom  think  but 
of  one  thing  at  a  time.  For  instance,  if  Poole  is  intent 
on  his  matter  while  he  is  speaking,  he  cannot  give  the 
least  attention  to  his  language  or  pronunciation,  in  conse- 
quence of  which  there  is  no  one  error  in  his  dialect  which 
he  has  ever  got  rid  of.  My  mind  is  in  general  of  the 
contrary  make.  I  too  often  do  nothing,  in  consequence 
of  being  impressed  all  at  once  (or  so  rapidly  consecutively 
as  to  appear  all  at  once)  by  a  variety  of  impressions.  If 
there  are  a  dozen  people  at  table  I  hear,  and  cannot  help 
giving  some  attention  to  what  each  one  says,  even  thotigh 
there  should  be  three  or  four  talking  at  once.  The  detail 
of  the  Good  and  the  Bad,  of  the  two  different  makes  of 
mind,  would  form  a  not  uninteresting  brace  of  essays  in 
a  Spectator  or  Guardian. 

You  will  of  course  repay  Southey  instantly  all  the 
money  you  may  have  borrow^ed  either  for  yourself  or  for 
Mr.  Jackson,''  and  do  not  forget  to  remember  that  a  share 

^  John  Toljin    the   dr.amatist   (or  ^  fhe  mLsspelling^,  which  -was  in- 

possibly   his   brother  James),    with  tentional,  was  an  intimation  to  Lamb 

whom  Coleridije  spi-nt  the  last  weeks  that  the  letter  was  not  to  be  opened, 

of   liis   staj'   in   London,  before    he  ^  A  retired  carrier,  the  owner  of 

left  for  Portsmouth  on  the  27th  of  Greta     Hall,    who     occupied    "  the 

March,  on  his  way  to  Malta.  smaller  of    the   two  houses    inter- 


ATrs.   Wilson 


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n 


1804]  TO   HIS  WIFE  461 

of  the  wine-hill  belonged  to  me.  Likewise  when  you  pay 
Mr.  Jackson,  you  will  pay  him  just  as  if  he  had  not  had 
any  money  from  you.  Is  it  liaK  a  year  ?  or  a  year  and  a 
half's  rent  that  we  owe  him  ?  Did  we  pay  him  up  to 
Jidy  last  ?  If  we  did,  then,  were  I  you,  I  w^ould  now  pay 
him  the  whole  year's  rent  up  to  July  next,  and  tell  him 
that  you  shall  not  want  the  twenty  pounds  which  you 
have  lent  him  till  the  beginning  of  May.  Remember  me 
to  him  in  the  most  affectionate  manner,  and  say  how  sin- 
cerely I  condole  with  him  on  his  sprain.  Likewise,  and 
as  affectionately,  remember  me  to  Mrs.  Wilson. 

It  gave  me  pain  and  a  feeling  of  anxious  concern  on 
our  own  account,  as  well  as  Mr.  Jackson's,  to  find  him  so 
distressed  for  money.  I  fear  that  he  will  be  soon  induced 
to  sell  the  house. 

Now  for  our  darling  Hartley.  I  am  myself  not  at  all 
anxious  or  uneasy  respecting  his  habits  of  idleness  ;  but 
I  should  be  very  unhappy  if  he  were  to  go  to  the  town 
school,  unless  there  were  any  steady  lad  that  Mr.  Jackson 
knew  and  coidd  rely  on,  who  went  to  the  same  school 
regularly,  and  who  would  be  easily  induced  by  half-a- 
crown  once  in  two  or  three  months  to  take  care  of  him, 
let  him  always  sit  by  him,  and  to  whom  you  should  in- 
struct the  child  to  yield  a  certain  degree  of  obedience. 
If  this  can  be  done  (and  you  will  read  what  I  say  to  Mr. 
Jackson),  I  have  no  great  objection  to  his  going  to  school 
and  making  a  fair  trial  of  it.  Oh,  may  God  vouchsafe  me 
health  that  he  may  go  to  school  to  his  own  father !  I 
exceedingly  wish  that  there  were  any  one  in  Keswick  who 
would  Q-ive  him  a  little  instruction  in  the  elements  of 
drawing.  I  will  go  to-morrow  and  enquire  for  some  very 
elementary  book,  if  there  be  any,  that  proposes  to  teach 

connected  under  one  roof."    He  was  ley's  childhood,  was  Jackson's  house- 
godfather  to  Hartley  Coleridge,  and  keeper.    Memoir  and  Letters  of  Sara 
left  him    a  legacy  of   fifty  pounds.  Coleridge,  1873,  i.  13. 
Mrs.  Wilson,  the  "  Wilsy  "  of  Hart- 


462  A  LONG  ABSENCE  [Feb. 

it  without  the  assistance  of  a  drawing  master,  and  which 
you  might  make  him  read  to  you  instead  of  his  other 
books.  Sir  G.  Beaumont  was  very  much  pleased  and 
interested  by  Hartley's  promise  of  attaehment  to  his  dar- 
Ihig  Art.  If  I  can  find  the  book  I  will  send  it  off  instantly, 
together  with  the  Spillekins  (Spielchen,  or  Gamelet,  I 
suppose),  a  German  refinement  of  our  Jack  Straw.  You 
or  some  one  of  your  sisters  will  be  so  good  as  to  play  with 
Hartley,  at  first,  that  Derweut  may  learn  it.  Little  Al- 
bert at  Dr.  Crompton's,  and  indeed  all  the  children,  are 
quite  spillekin  mad.  It  is  certainly  an  excellent  game  to 
teach  children  steadiness  of  hand  and  quickness  of  eye, 
and  a  good  opportunity  to  impress  upon  them  the  beauty 
of  strict  truth,  when  it  is  against  their  own  interest,  and 
to  give  them  a  pride  in  it,  and  habits  of  it,  —  for  the 
slightest  perceptible  motion  jiroduced  in  any  of  the  spille- 
kins, except  the  one  attempted  to  be  croolced  off  the  heap, 
destroys  that  turn,  and  there  is  a  good  deal  of  foresight 
executed  in  knowing  when  to  give  it  a  lusty  pull,  so  as  to 
move  the  spillekins  under,  if  only  you  see  that  your  adver- 
sary who  will  take  advantage  of  this  pull,  wdll  himself 
not  succeed,  and  yet  by  Jus  or  the  second  pull  put  the 
sj)i]lekin  easily  in  the  power  of  the  third  pull.  ...  I  am 
now  writing  in  No.  44  Upper  Titchfield  Street,  where  I 
have  for  the  first  time  been  breakfasting  with  A.  Welles, 
who  seems  a  kind,  friendly  man,  and  instead  of  recom- 
mending any  more  of  his  medicine  to  me,  advises  me  to 
persevere  in  and  expedite  my  voyage  to  a  better  climate, 
and  has  been  very  pressing  with  me  to  take  up  my  home 
at  his  house.  To-morrow  I  dine  with  Mr.  Rickman  at  his 
own  house ;  Wednesday  I  dine  with  him  at  Tobin's.  I 
shall  dine  witli  IVIr.  Welles  to-day,  and  thence  by  eight 
o'clock   to   the   Royal  Institution    to    the   lecture.^      On 

1  Coleridge  had  already  attended  correspondence   to  Davy's  Lectures 

Davy's  Lectures  at  the  Royal  Insti-  gave  rise  to  the  mistaken  supposition 

tution  in  1S()2,  and.  possibly,  in  1S03.  that  lie  delivered  public  lectures  in 

It  is  probable  that  allusions  in  his  London  before  1808. 


1804]  TO   HIS   WIFE  463 

Thursday  afternoon,  two  o'clock  to  the  lecture,  and  Sat- 
urday night,  eight  o'clock  to  the  lecture.  On  Friday,  I 
spend  the  day  with  Davy  certainly,  and  I  hope  with  Mr. 
Sotheby  likewise.  To-morrow  or  Wednesday  I  exjiect  to 
know  certainly  what  my  plans  are  to  be,  whither  to  go 
and  when,  and  whether  the  intervening  space  will  make  it 
worth  my  while  to  go  to  Ottery,  or  whether  I  shall  go 
back  to  Dunmow,  and  return  with  Sir  George  and  Lady 
B.  when  they  come  to  their  house  in  Grosvenor  Square. 
I  cannot  express  to  you  how  very,  very  affectionate  the 
behaviour  of  these  good  people  has  been  to  me  ;  and  how 
they  seem  to  love  by  anticipation  those  very  few  whom  I 
love.  If  Southey  would  but  permit  me  to  copy  that  divine 
passage  of  his  "  Madoc,"  ^  respecting  the  Harp  of  the  Welsh 
Bard,  and  its  imagined  divinity,  with  the  Two  Savages, 
or  any  other  detachable  passage,  or  to  transcribe  his  "  Ke- 
hama,"  I  will  pledge  myself  that  Sir  George  Beaumont  and 
Lady  B.  will  never  suffer  a  single  individual  to  hear  or 
see  a  single  line,  you  saying  that  it  is  to  be  kept  sacred  to 
them,  and  not  to  be  seen  by  any  one  else. 

[No  signature.] 

>  "  He  said,  and,  gliding  like  a  snake,  Into  so  sweet  a  harmony,  tliat  sure 

Where  Caradoc  lay  sleeping  made  his  way.  It  seem'd  no  earthly  tone.     The  savage  man 

Sweetly  slept  he,    and  pleasant  were  his  Suspends  his  stroke ;  he  looks  astonished 

dreams  round ; 

Of  Britain,  and  the  blue-eyed  maid  he  loved.  No  human  hand  is  near  :  .  .  .  and  hark  I 

The  Azteoa  stood  over  him ;  he  knew  again  ^ 

His  victim,  and  the  power  of   vengeance  The  aerial  music  swells  and  dies  away. 

gave  Then  first  the  heart  of  Tlalala  felt  fear  : 

Mah'gnant  joy.   '  Once  hast  thou  'scaped  my  He  thought  that  some    protecting  spirit 

arm :  watch'd 

But  what  shall  save  thee  now?'  the  Tyger  Beside  the   Stranger,  and,  abash 'd,  with- 

thought,  drew." 

Exulting;  and  he  raised  his  spear  to  strike.  «  Madoc    in    Aztlan,"    Book   XI. 

That  instant,  o'er  the  Briton's  unseen  harp  ,      r)    .•     ;    ti/™7,„     ifiQa    „ 

The  gale  of  morning  past,  and  swept  its  Sonthey's  Poetical  Works,  1838,  v. 

strings  274,  275. 


464  A  LONG  ABSENCE  [Feb. 


CXLIX.   TO   ROBERT   SOUTHEY. 

Kkkiiiairs  Office,  H.  of  Commoii8, 
February  20,  1804,  Monday  noon. 

Dear  Soutiiey,  —  The  affair  with  Godwin  began  thus. 
We  were  talking  of  reviews,  and  bewailing  their  ill  effects. 
I  detailed  my  plan  for  a  review,  to  occupy  regidarly  the 
fourth  side  of  an  evening  paper,  etc.,  etc.,  adding  that 
it  had  been  a  favourite  scheme  with  me  for  two  years 
past.  Godwin  very  coolly  observed  that  it  was  a  i)lan 
which  "  no  man  who  had  a  spark  of  honest  pride  "  could 
join  with.  "  No  man,  not  the  slave  of  the  grossest  egotism, 
could  unite  in,"  etc.  Cool  and  civil !  I  asked  whether 
he  and  most  others  did  not  already  do  what  I  proposed 
in  prefaces.  "  Aye !  in  prefaces  ;  that  is  quite  a  different 
thing."  I  then  adverted  to  the  extreme  rudeness  of  the 
speech  with  regard  to  myself,  and  added  that  it  was  not 
only  a  very  rough,  but  likewise  a  very  mistaken  opinion, 
for  I  was  nearly  if  not  quite  sure  that  it  had  received  the 
approbation  both  of  you  and  of  Wordsworth.  "  Yes,  sir ! 
just  so !  of  Mr.  Southey  —  just  what  I  said,"  and  so  on 
moi'^  Godioiniuno  in  language  so  ridiculously  and  exclu- 
sively appropriate  to  himself,  that  it  would  have  made  you 
merry.  It  was  even  as  if  he  was  looking  into  a  sort  of 
moral  looking-glass,  without  knowing  what  it  was,  and, 
seeing  his  own  very,  very  Godwiuship,  had  by  a  merry 
conceit  christened  it  in  your  name,  not  without  some  an- 
nexment  of  me  and  Wordsworth.  I  replied  by  laughing 
in  the  first  place  at  the  capricious  nature  of  his  nicety, 
that  what  was  gross  in  folio  should  become  double-refined 
in  octavo  foolscap  or  jnchpochet  quartos,  blind  slavish 
egotism  in  small  pica,  manly  discriminating  self-respect  in 
double  ])rimer,  modest  as  maiden's  blushes  between  boards, 
or  in  calf-skin,  and  only  not  obscene  in  naked  sheets. 
And  then  in  a  deep  and  somewhat  sarcastic  tone,  tried  to 
teach  him  to  speak  more  reverentially  of  his  betters,  by 


I 


1804]  TO   ROBERT   SOUTHEY  465 

stating'  what  and  who  they  were,  by  whom  honoured,  by 
whom  depreciated.  Well !  this  gust  died  away.  I  was 
going-  home  to  look  over  his  Duncity ;  he  begged  me  to 
stay  till  his  return  in  half  au  hour.  I,  meaning  to  take 
nothing  more  the  whole  evening,  took  a  crust  of  bread, 
and  Mary  Lamb  made  me  a  glass  of  punch  of  most  deceit- 
fid  strength.  Instead  of  half  an  hour,  Godwin  stayed  an 
hour  and  a  half.  In  came  his  wife,  Mrs.  Fenwick,^  and 
four  young  ladies,  and  just  as  Godwin  returned,  supjier 
came  in,  and  it  was  now  useless  to  go  (at  supper  I  was 
rather  a  mirth-maker  than  merry).  I  was  disgTisted  at 
heart  with  the  grossness  and  vulgar  insauocecity  of  this 
dim-headed  prig  of  a  philosophocide,  when,  after  supper, 
his  ill  stars  impelled  him  to  renew  the  contest.  I  begged 
him  not  to  goad  me,  for  that  I  feared  my  feelings  would 
not  long  remain  in  my  power.  He  (to  my  wonder  and 
indignation)  persisted  (I  had  not  deciphered  the  cause), 
and  then,  as  he  well  said,  I  did  "  thunder  and  lighten  at 
him  "  with  a  vengeance  for  more  than  an  hour  and  a  half. 
Every  effort  of  seK-defence  only  made  him  more  ridicu- 
lous. If  I  had  been  Truth  in  person,  I  could  not  have 
spoken  more  accurately ;  but  it  was  Truth  in  a  war- 
chariot,  drawn  by  the  three  Furies,  and  the  reins  had 
slipped  out  of  the  goddess's  hands !  .  .  .  Yet  he  did  not 
absolutely  give  way  till  that  stinging  contrast  which  I 
drew  between  him  as  a  man,  as  a  writer,  and  a  benefactor 
of  society,  and  those  of  whom  he  had  sjDoken  so  irrev- 
erently. In  short,  I  suspect  that  I  seldom,  at  any  time 
and  for  so  great  a  length  of  time,  so  continuously  displayed 
so  much  power,  and  do  hope  and  trust  that  never  did  I 
display  one  half  the  scorn  and  ferocity.  The  next  morn- 
ing, the  moment  when  I  awoke,  O  mercy !  I  did  feel  like 

^  Mrs.  E.  Fenwick,  author  of  <Se-  Letters    (ed.  Aiiiger),     i.    331  ;    and 

crecji^   a   novel  (17!H*)>    ^  friend  of  Lamb's     essays,    "Two    Races    of 

Godwin's  first  wife, Mary  Wollstone-  Men,"  and  "Newspapers  Thirty-five 

craft.    William  Godwin,  by  C.  Kegan  Years  ago." 
Paul,  i.  282,  283.    See,  also,  Lamb's 


4G6  A  LONG  ABSENCE  [Feb. 

a  very  wretch.  I  got  up  and  immediately  wrote  and  sent 
off  by  a  porter,  a  letter,  I  dare  affirm  an  affecting  and 
eloquent  letter  to  him,  and  since  then  have  been  working 
for  him.  for  I  was  heart-smitten  with  the  recollection  that 
I  had  said  all,  all  in  the  presence  of  his  loife.  But  if  I 
had  known  all  I  now  know,  I  will  not  say  that  I  should 
not  have  apologised,  but  most  certainly  I  should  not  have 
made  such  an  apology,  for  he  confessed  to  Lamb  that  he 
should  not  have  persisted  in  irritating  me,  but  that  Mrs. 
Godwin  had  twitted  him  for  his  prostration  before  me,  as 
if  he  was  afraid  to  say  his  life  was  his  own  in  my  presence. 
He  admitted,  too,  that  although  he  never  to  the  very  last 
suspected  that  I  was  tipsy,  yet  he  saw  clearly  that  some- 
thing imusual  ailed  me,  and  that  I  had  not  been  my  natu- 
ral self  the  whole  evening.  What  a  poor  creature  !  To 
attack  a  man  who  had  been  so  kind  to  him  at  the  instiga- 
tion of  such  a  woman  !  ^  And  what  a  woman  to  instigate 
him  to  quarrel  with  7ne,  who  with  as  much  power  as  any, 
and  more  than  most  of  his  acquaintances,  had  been  per- 
haps the  only  one  who  had  never  made  a  butt  of  him  — 
who  had  uniformly  spoken  respectfully  to  him.  But  it  is 
past !     And  I  trust  will  teach  me  wisdom  in  future. 

I  have  undoubtedly  suffered  a  great  deal  from  a  coward- 
ice in  not  daring  to  repel  unassimilating  acquaintances 
who  press  forward  upon  my  friendship ;  but  I  dare  aver, 
that  if  the  circumstances  of  each  particular  case  were 
examined,  they  would  prove  on  the  whole  honourable  to 
me  rather  than  otherwise.  But  I  have  had  enouah  and 
done  enough.  Hereafter  I  shall  show  a  diffei-ent  face, 
and  calmly  inform  those  who  press  upon  me  that  my 
health,  spirits,  and  occupation  alike  make  it  necessary  for 
me  to  confine  myself  to  the  society  of  those  with  whom  I 
have  the  nearest  and  highest  connection.  So  help  me 
God  I  1  will  hereafter  be  quite  sure  that  I  do  really  and 

'  Lamb's  " bad  baby  "  —  "a  disg^usting  woman  who  weare  green  spec- 
tacles.''    LtUers,  passim. 


1804]  TO   HIS   WIFE  467 

in  the  whole  of  my  heart  esteem  and  like  a  man  before  I 
permit  him  to  call  me  friend. 

I  am  very  anxious  that  you  should  go  on  with  your 
"  Madoc."  If  the  thought  had  happened  to  suggest  itself 
to  you  originally  and  with  all  these  modifications  and  poly- 
pus tendrils  with  which  it  would  have  caught  hold  of  your 
subject,  I  am  afraid  that  you  would  not  have  made  the  first 
voyage  as  interesting  at  least  as  it  ought  to  be,  so  as  to 
preserve  entire  the  fit  proportion  of  interest.     But  go  on ! 

I  shall  call  on  Longman  as  soon  as  I  receive  an  answer 
from  him  to  a  note  which  I  sent.  .  .  . 

God  bless  you  and  S.  T.  Coleridge. 

P.  S.  I  have  just  received  Sara's  four  lines  added  to 
my  brother  George's  letter,  and  cannot  explain  her  not 
having  received  my  letters.  If  I  am  not  mistaken  I  have 
written  three  or  four  times :  upon  an  average  I  have 
written  to  Greta  Hall  once  every  five  days  since  I  left 
Liverpool  —  if  you  will  divide  the  letters,  one  to  each  five 
days.  I  will  write  to  my  brother  immediately.  I  wrote 
to  Sara  from  Dunmow  ;  to  you  instantly  on  my  return, 
and  now  again.  I  do  not  deserve  to  be  scolded  at  present. 
I  met  G.  Burnett  the  day  before  yesterday  in  Lincoln's 
Inn  Fields,  so  nervous,  so  helpless  with  such  opium- 
stupidly-wild  eyes. 

Ob,  it  made  the  place  one  calls  the  heart  feel  as  it  was 
going  to  ache. 

CL.    TO    HIS   WIFE. 

Mr.  J.  C.  Motley's,  Thomas  Street,  Portsmouth, 
Sunday,  April  1,  1804. 

My  dear  Sara,  —  I  am  waiting  here  with  great  anxiety 
for  the  arrival  of  the  Speedwell.  The  Leviathan,  Man  of 
War,  our  convoy,  has  orders  to  sail  with  the  fii"st  fair 
wind,  and  whatever  wind  can  bring  in  the  Speedwell 
will  carry  out  the  Leviathan,  unless  she  have  other  orders 


4G8  A  LONG  ABSENCE  [April 

than  those  g^eiu'rally  known.  1  have  left  the  Inn,  and  its 
crumeua-inuhja  luttio,  and  am  only  at  the  expense  of  a 
lodyini,'  at  half  a  guinea  a  week,  for  I  have  all  my  meals 
at  Mr.  Motley's,  to  whom  a  letter  from  Stuart  introduced 
me,  and  who  has  done  most  especial  honour  to  the  introduc- 
tion. Inileed  he  could  not  well  help,  for  Stuart  in  his  letter 
called  me  his  very,  very  particular  friend,  and  that  every 
attention  would  sink  more  into  his  heart  than  one  offered 
to  himself  or  his  brother.  Besides,  you  know  it  is  no  new 
thin<^  for  i)eople  to  take  sudden  and  hot  likings  to  me. 
How  different  Sir  G.  B. !  He  disliked  me  at  first.  When 
I  am  in  better  spirits  and  less  flurried  I  will  transcribe  his 
last  letter.  It  breathed  the  very  soul  of  calm  and  manly 
yet  deep  affection. 

Hartley  wiU  receive  his  and  Derwent's  Spillekins  with 
a  letter  from  me  by  the  first  waggon  that  leaves  London 
after  Wednesday  next. 

My  dear  Sara  I  the  mother,  the  attentive  and  excellent 
mother  of  my  children  must  needs  be  always  more  than 
the  word  friend  can  express  when  applied  to  a  woman.  I 
pray  you,  use  no  word  that  you  use  with  reluctance.  Yet 
what  we  have  been  to  each  other,  our  understandings  will 
not  permit  our  hearts  to  forget !  God  knows,  I  weep  tears 
of  blood,  but  so  it  is !  For  I  greatly  esteem  and  honour 
you.  Heaven  knows  if  I  can  leave  you  really  comfortable 
in  your  circmnstances  I  shall  meet  Death  with  a  face, 
which  I  feel  at  the  moment  I  say  it,  it  would  rather  shock 
than  comfort  you  to  imagine. 

My  health  is  indifferent.  I  am  rather  endurably  unwell 
than  tolerably  well.  I  will  write  Southey  to-morrow  or 
next  day,  though  Motley  rides  and  drives  me  about  sight- 
seeing so  as  to  leave  me  but  little  time.  I  am  not  sure 
that  I  shall  see  the  Isle  of  Wijrht. 

Write  to  Wordsworth.  Inform  him  that  I  have  re- 
ceived all  and  everything  and  will  write  him  very  soon,  as 
soon  as  I  can  command  si)irits  and  time.  .  .  .  Motley  can 


1804]  TO  ROBERT  SOUTHEY  469 

send  off  all  letters  to  Malta  under  Government  covers. 
You  direct,  therefore,  at  all  times  merely  to  me  at  Mr.  J. 
C.  Motley's,  Portsmouth. 

My  very  dear  Sara,  may  God  Almighty  bless  you  and 
your  affectionate 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

I  mourn  for  poor  Mary. 

CLI.    TO    ROBERT    SOUTHEY. 

Oif  Oporto  and  the  coast  of  Portugal, 
Monday  noon,  April  16,  1804. 

My  dear  Southey,  —  I  was  thinldng  long  before  day- 
light this  morning,  that  I  ought,  sj^ite  of  toss  and  tumble 
and  cruel  rocking,  to  write  a  few  letters  in  the  course 
of  this  and  the  three  following  days  ;  at  the  end  of  which, 
if  the  northwest  wind  still  blows  behind,  we  may  hope 
to  be  at  Gibraltar.  I  have  two  or  three  very  unpleas- 
ant letters  to  write,  and  I  was  planning  whether  I  should 
not  begin  with  these,  have  them  off  my  hands  and  thoughts, 
in  short,  whistle  them  down  into  the  sea,  and  then  take  up 
the  paper,  etc.,  a  whole  man.  When,  lo !  I  heard  the 
Captain  above  deck  talking  of  Oporto,  slipped  on  my  great- 
coat and  went  shoeless  up  to  have  a  look.  And  a  beauti- 
ful scene  verily  it  was  and  is !  The  high  land  of  Portugal, 
and  the  mountain  land  behind  it,  and  behind  that  fair 
mountains  with  blue  pyramids  and  cones.  By  the  glass  I 
could  distinguish  the  larger  buildings  in  Oporto,  a  scram- 
bling city,  part  of  it,  seemingly,  walls  washed  by  the  sea, 
l)a'rt  of  it  upon  hills.  At  first  view,  it  looked  much  like  a 
vast  brick  kiln  in  a  sandy,  clayey  country  on  a  hot  sum- 
mer afternoon ;  seen  more  distinctly,  it  gave  the  nobler 
idea  of  a  ruined  city  in  a  wilderness,  its  houses  and  streets 
lying  low  in  ruins  under  its  ruined  walls,  and  a  few  tem- 
ples and  palaces  standing  untouched.  But  over  all  the 
sea  between  us  and  the  land,  short  of  a  stone's  throw  on 
the  left  of  the  vessel,  there  is  such  a  delicious  warm  olive 


470  A  LONG  ABSENCE  [April 

green,  almost  yellow,  on  the  water,  and  now  it  lias  taken  in 
the  vessel,  ami  its  homulary  is  a  gunshot  to  my  ri<;lit,  and  one 
fine  vessel  exaetly  on  its  edge.     This,  thougli  oceasioned  by 
the  impurity  of  the  nigh  shore  and  the  disemboguing  rivers, 
forms  a  home  seene  ;  it  is  warm  and  landlike.     The  air  is 
balmy  and  genial,  and  all  that  the  fresh  breeze  can  do  can 
scarcely   keep   under    its   vernal   warmth.     The    country 
round  about  Ojiorto  seems  darkly  wooded ;    and  in  the 
distant  gap  far  behind  and  below  it  on  the  cwve  of  that 
high  ridge  forming  a  gap,  I  count  seventeen  conical  and 
pyramidal  summits ;  below  that  the  high  hills  are  saddle- 
backed.    (In  picturesque  cant  I  ought  to  have  said  but  be- 
low that,  etc.)     To  me  the  saddleback  is  a  pleasant  form 
which  it  never  w'oultl  have  occurred  to  me  to  christen  by 
that  name.      Tents  and  marquees  with  little  points  and 
summits  made  by  the  tent-poles  suggest  a  more  striking 
likeness.     Well !  I  need  not  say  that  the  sight  of  the  coast 
of  Portugal  made  it  impossible  for  me  to  write  to  any  one 
before  I  had  written  to  jou  —  I  now  seeing  for  the  first 
time  a  country  you  love  so  dearly.     But  you,  perhaps,  are 
not  among  my  mountains  I     God  Almighty  grant  that  yoti 
may  not.     Yes  I  you  are  in  London  :  all  is  well,  and  Hart- 
ley has  a  younger  sister  than  tiny  Sally.     If  it  be  so,  call 
her  Edith — Edith  by  itself  —  Edith.      But  somehow  or 
other  I  would  rather  it  were  a  boy,  then  let  nothing,  I  con- 
jure you,  no  false  eonii)liment  to  another,  no  false  feeling 
indulged  in  yourself,  deprive  your  eldest  son  of  his  father's 
name.     Such  was  ever  the  manner  of  our  forefathers,  and 
there  is  a  dignity,  a  self-respect,  or  an  awful,  preeminently 
self-referring  event  in  the  custom,  that  makes  it  well  worthy 
of  our  imitation.     I  would  have  done  [so],  but  that  from 
my   earliest   years    I    have  had  a  feeling  of  dislike  and 
disgust   connected  with  my  own  Christian  name  —  such 
a  vile  short  jdumpness,  such  a  dull  abortive  smartness 
in  tlie  first  syllable,  and  this  so  harshly  contrasted  by  the 
obscurity  and  indefiniteness  of  the  syllabic  vowel,  and  the 


1801]  TO   ROBERT  SOUTHEY  471 

feebleness  of  the  uncovered  liquid  with  which  it  ends, 
the  wobble  it  makes,  and  struggling  between  a  dis-  and  a 
tri-syllable,  and  the  whole  name  sounding  as  if  you  were 
abeeceeing  S.  M,  U.  L.  Altogether,  it  is,  perhaps,  the 
worst  combination  of  which  vowels  and  consonants  are 
susceptible.  While  I  am  writing  we  are  in  41°  10m.  lat- 
itude, and  are  almost  three  leagues  from  land  ;  at  one  time 
we  were  scarcely  one  league  from  it,  and  about  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  ago,  the  whole  country  looked  so  very  like  the 
country  from  Hutton  Moor  to  Saddleback  and  the  adjoin- 
ing part  of  Skiddaw. 

I  cannot  help  some  anxious  feelings  respecting  you,  nor 
some  superstitious  twitches  within,  as  if  it  were  wrong  at 
this  distance  to  write  so  prospectively  and  with  such  par- 
ticularization  of  that  which  is  contingent,  which  may  be 
all  otherwise.  But  —  God  forbid !  and,  surely,  hope  is  less 
ominous  than  fear.  We  set  sail  from  St.  Helier's,  April 
9th,  Monday  morning,  having  dropped  down  thither  from 
Spithead  on  Sunday  evening.  We  lost  twenty-six  hours 
of  fair  wind  before  our  commodore  gave  the  signal  —  our 
brig,  a  most  excellent  and  first-rate  sailor,  but  laden  deep 
with  heavy  goods  (eighty-four  large  cannon  for  Trieste 
in  the  hold),  which  makes  it  rock  most  cruelly.  I  can 
only  — 

Wed.  April  18.  I  was  going  to  say  I  can  only  com- 
pare it  to  a  wench  kept  at  home  on  some  gay  day  to  niu'se 
a  fretful  infant  and  who,  having  long  rocked  it  in  vain, 
at  length  rocks  it  in  spite.  .  .  .  But  though  the  rough 
weather  and  the  incessant  rocking  does  not  disease  me, 
yet  the  damn'd  rocking  depresses  one  inconceivably,  like 
hiccups  or  itching ;  it  is  troublesome  and  impertinent  and 
forces  you  away  from  your  thoughts  like  the  presence  and 
gossip  of  an  old  aunt,  or  long-staying  visitor,  to  two  lov- 
ers. Oh  with  what  envy  have  I  gazed  at  our  commodore, 
the  Leviathan  of  seventy-four  guns,  the  majestic  and 
beautiful  creature  sailing  right  before  us,  sometimes  half 


472  A  LONG  ABSENCE  [April 

a  mile,  of  toner  a  fuiloug  (for  we  are  alwaj^s  first),  with 
two  or  at  most  three  topsails  that  just  bisect  the  naked 
masts  —  as  much  naked  mast  above  as  below,  upright, 
motionless  as  a  church  with  its  steeple,  as  though  it 
moved  by  its  will,  as  though  its  speed  were  spiritual,  the 
bein"--  and  essence  without  the  body  of  motion,  or  as 
thou<>h  the  distance  passed  away  by  it  and  the  objects  of 
its  pursuit  hm-ried  onward  to  it !  In  all  other  respects  I 
cannot  be  better  off,  except  perhaps  the  two  passengers ; 
the  one  a  gay,  worldly-minded  fellow,  not  deficient  in 
sense  or  judgment,  but  inert  to  everything  except  gain 
and  eating ;  the  other,  a  woman  once  housekeeper  in  Gen- 
eral Fox's  family,  a  creature  with  a  horrible  superfluity 
of  envelope,  a  monopolist  and  patentee  of  flabby  flesh,  or 
rather  Jish.  Indeed,  she  is  at  once  fish,  flesh,  and  fotcl^ 
thoujih  no  chicken.  But,  ...  to  see  the  man  eat  autl  this 
Mrs.  Carnosity  talk  about  it !  "I  must  have  that  little 
potato  "  (baked  in  grease  under  the  meat), "  it  looks  so 
smilingly  at  me."  "  Do  cut  me,  if  you  please  "  (for  she  is 
so  fat  she  cannot  help  herself),  "that  small  bit,  just  there, 
sir!  a  leetle,  tiny  bit  below  if  you  please."  "Well,  I  have 
brought  plenty  of  pickles,  I  always  think,"  etc.  "  I  have 
always  three  or  four  jars  of  brandy  cherries  with  me :  for 
with  boil'd  rice  now,"  etc.,  "for  I  always  think,"  etc.  And 
true  enough,  if  it  can  be  caDed  thinking,  she  does  always 
think  upon  some  little  damned  article  of  eating  that  be- 
longs to  the  housekeeper's  cupboard's  locker.  And  then 
her  plaintive  yawns,  such  a  mixture  of  moan  and  petted 
child's  dry  cry^  or  try  at  a  cry  in  them.  And  then  she 
said  to  me  this  morning,  "  How  unhappy,  I  always  think, 
one  always  is,  when  there  is  nothing  and  nobody  as  one 
may  say,  about  one  to  amuse  one.  It  makes  me  so  ner- 
voxi^y  She  eats,  drinks,  snores,  and  simply  the  being 
stupid,  and  silly,  and  vacant  the  learned  body  calls  ner- 
vous. Shame  on  me  for  talking  about  her !  The  sun  is 
setting  so  exactly  behind  my  Lack  that  a  ball  from  it 


1804]  TO  ROBERT  SOUTHEY  473 

would  strike  the  stem  of  the  vessel  against  which  my  back 
rests.  But  sunsets  are  not  so  beautiful,  I  think,  at  sea  as 
on  land.  I  am  sitting  at  my  desk,  namely  the  rudder- 
case,  on  the  duck  coop,  the  ducks  quacking  at  my  legs. 
The  chicken  and  duck  coops  run  thus  j  and     so 

inclose  on  three  sides  the  rudder-case.]]  ^^— ^  1  But  now 
immediately  that  the  sun  has  sunk,  the  ''-  ''  sea  runs 

high,  and  the  vessel  begins  its  old  trick  of  rocking,  which 
it  had  intermitted  the  whole  day  —  the  second  intermis- 
sion only  since  our  voyage.  Oh,  how  glad  I  was  to  see 
Cape  Mondego,  and  then  yesterday  the  Rock  of  Lisbon 
and  the  fine  mountains  at  its  interior  extremity,  which  I 
conceived  to  be  Ciutra !  Its  outline  from  the  sea  is  some- 
thing like  this 


and  just  at  A.  where  the  fine  stony  M.  begins,  with  a  C. 
lying  on  its  back,  is  a  village  or  villages,  and  before  we 
came  abreast  of  this,  we  saw  far  inland,  seemingly  close 
by,  several  breasted  peaks,  two  towers,  and,  by  the  glass, 
three,  of  a  very  large  building,  be  it  convent  or  palace. 
However,  I  knew  you  had  seen  all  these  places  over  and 
over  again.  The  dome-shaped  mountain  or  Cape  Esperi- 
chel,  between  Lisbon  and  Cape  St.  Vincent,  is  one  of  the 
finest  I  ever  saw ;  indeed  all  the  mountains  have  a  noble 
outline.  We  sail  on  at  a  wonderful  rate,  and  considering 
that  we  are  in  convoy,  shall  have  made  a  most  lucky  voy- 
age to  Gibraltar,  if  we  are  not  becalmed  and  taken  in  the 
Gut ;  for  we  shall  be  there  to-morrow  afternoon  if  the 
wind  hold,  and  have  gone  it  in  ten  days.  It  is  unlucky 
to  prophesy  good  things,  but  if  we  have  as  good  fortune 
in  the  Mediterranean,  instead  of  nine  or  eleven  weeks,  we 
may  reach  Malta  in  a  month  or  five  weeks,  including  the 
week  which  we  shall  most  probably  stay  at  Gibraltar.     I 


474  A  LONG  ABSENCE  [April 

shall  keep  the  letters  open  till  we  arrive  there,  simply 
put  two  strokes  under  the  word  "  Gibraltar,"  and  close  up 
the  letter,  as  I  may  gain  thereby  a  fortnight's  post.  You 
will  not  expeet  to  hear  from  me  again  till  we  get  to 
Malta.  I  had  hoped  to  have  done  something  during  my 
voyage ;  at  all  events,  to  have  written  some  letters,  etc. 
But  what  with  the  rains,  the  incessant  rocking,  and  my 
consequent  ill  health  or  stupefaction,  I  have  done  little 
else  than  read  through  the  Italian  Grammar.  I  took  out 
with  me  some  of  the  finest  wine  and  the  oldest  in  the 
kingdom,  some  marvellous  brandy,  and  rum  twenty  years 
old,  and  excepting  a  pint  of  wine,  which  I  had  mulled  at 
two  different  times,  and  Instantly  ejected  again,  I  have 
touched  nothing  but  lemonade  from  the  day  we  set  sail  to 
the  present  time.  So  very  little  does  anything  grow  into 
a  habit  with  me !  This  I  should  say  to  poor  Tobin,  who 
continued  advising  and  advisiiuj  to  the  last  moment.  O 
God,  he  is  a  good  fellow,  but  this  rage  of  advising  and 
disciissing  character,  and  (as  almost  all  men  of  strong 
habitual  health  have  the  trick  of  doing)  of  finding  out 
the  cause  of  everybody's  ill  health  in  some  one  niali)rac- 
tice  or  other.  This,  and  the  self-conceit  and  presumption 
necessarily  generated  by  it,  added  to  his  own  marvellous 
genius  at  utterly  misunderstanding  what  he  hears,  and 
transposing  words  often  in  a  manner  that  would  be  ludi- 
crous if  one  did  not  suspect  that  his  blindness  had  a  share 
in  producing  it  —  all  this  renders  him  a  sad  mischief- 
maker,  and  with  the  best  intentions,  a  manufacturer  and 
propagator  of  calumnies.  I  had  no  notion  of  the  extent 
of  the  mischief  till  I  was  last  in  town.  I  was  low,  even 
to  sinldng,  when  I  was  at  the  Inn.  Stuart,  best,  kindest 
man  to  me !  was  with  me,  and  Lamb,  and  Sir  G.  B.'s  valet. 
But  Tobin  fastened  upon  me,  and  advised  and  reproved, 
and  just  l)efore  I  stejiped  into  the  coach,  reminded  me  of 
a  debt  of  ten  pounds  which  I  had  borrowed  of  him  for 
another  person,  an  intimate  friend  of  his,  on  the  condition 


1804]  TO   DANIEL   STUART  475 

that  I  was  not  to  repay  him  till  I  could  do  it  out  of  my 
own  purse,  not  borrowing  of  another,  and  not  embarrass- 
ing myself  —  in  his  very  words,  "till  he  wanted  it  more 
than  I."  I  was  calling  to  Stuart  in  order  to  pay  the  sum, 
but  he  stopped  me  with  fervoiu*,  and,  fully  convinced  that 
he  did  it  only  in  the  rage  of  admonition,  I  was  vexed  that 
it  had  angered  me.  Therefore  say  nothing  of  it,  for  really 
he  is  at  bottom  a  good  man. 

I  dare  say  nothing  of  home.  I  will  write  to  Sara  from 
Malta,  the  moment  of  my  arrival,  if  I  have  not  time  to 
write  from  Gibraltar.  One  of  you  write  to  me  by  the 
regular  post,  "  S.  T.  Coleridge,  Esqre.  Dr.  Stoddart's, 
Malta : "  the  other  to  me  at  Mr.  J.  C.  Motley's,  Ports- 
mouth, that  I  may  see  whether  Motley  was  right  or  no, 
and  which  comes  first. 

God  bless  you  all  and  S.  T.  Coleridge. 

Remember  me  kindly  to  Mr.  Jackson,  Mrs.  Wilson,  to 
the  Calverts  and  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  to  Mary  Stamper,  etc. 

CLII.   TO   DANIEL   STUART. 

On  board  the  Speedwell,  at  anchor  in  the  Bay  of  Gibraltar, 
Saturday  night,  April  21,  1S04. 

My  dear  Stuart,  —  AVe  dropped  anchor  half  a  mile 
from  the  landing  place  of  the  Rock  of  Gibraltar  on  Thurs- 
day afternoon  between  four  and  five  ;  a  most  prosperous 
voyage  of  eleven  days.  .  .  . 

Since  we  anchored  I  have  passed  nearly  the  whole  of 
eacli  day  in  scrambling  about  on  the  back  of  the  rock, 
among  the  monkeys.  I  am  a  match  for  them  in  climbing, 
but  in  hops  and  flying  leaps  they  beat  me.  You  some- 
times see  thirt}^  or  forty  together  of  these  our  poor  rela- 
tions, and  you  may  be  a  month  on  the  rock  and  go  to  the 
back  every  day  and  not  see  one.  Oh,  my  dear  friend  !  it 
is  a  most  interesting  place,  this  !  A  rock  which  thins  as 
it  rises  up,  so  that  you  can  sit  a-straddle  on  almost  any 


47G  A  LONG  ABSENCE  [April 

]):ut  of  its  suuiiuit,  between  two  and  three  miles  from 
north  to  south. 

Rude  as  this  line  is, 
it  gives  you  the  outline 
of  its  ai)pearance,  from 
the  sea  close  to  it,  toler- 
ably accurately  ;  only, 
in  nature,  it  gives  you 
very  much  the  idea  of  a  rude  statue  of  a  lion  couch  ant, 
like  that  in  tlie  picture  of  the  Lion  and  the  Gnat,  in  the 
coninion  spelling-books,  or  of  some  animal  with  a  great 
dip  in  the  neck.  The  lion's  head  [turns]  towards  the 
Spanish,  his  stiffened  tail  (4)  to  the  African  coast.     At 

(5)  a  range  of  jMoorish  towers  and  wall  begins ;  and  at 

(6)  the  town  begins,  the  INIoorish  wall  running  straight 
down  by  the  side  of  it.  Above  the  town,  little  gardens 
and  neat  small  houses  are  scattered  here  and  there,  wher- 
ever they  can  force  a  bit  of  gardenable  ground ;  and  in 
these  are  poplars,  with  a  profusion  of  geraniums  and 
other  flowers  unknown  to  me ;  and  their  fences  are  most 
commonly  that  strange  vegetable  monster,  the  prickly 
aloe  ;  its  leaves  resembling  the  head  of  a  battledore,  or 
the  wooden  wings  of  a  church-cherub,  and  one  leaf  grow- 
ing out  of  another.  Under  the  Lion's  Tail  is  Europa 
Point,  which  is  fidl  of  gardens  and  pleasant  trees ;  but 
the  highest  head  of  this  mountain  is  a  heap  of  rocks,  with 
the  palm-trees  growing  in  vast  quantities  in  their  inter- 
stices, with  many  flowering  weeds  very  often  peeping  out 
of  the  small  holes  or  slits  in  the  body  of  the  rock,  just  as 
if  they  were  growing  in  a  bottle.  To  have  left  England 
only  eleven  days  ago,  with  two  flannel  waistcoats  on,  and 
two  others  over  them ;  with  tjvo  flannel  drawers  under 
cloth  pantaloons,  and  a  thick  pair  of  yarn  stockings ;  to 
have  had  no  temptation  to  lay  any  part  of  these  aside 
during  the  whole  voyage,  and  now  to  find  myself  in  the 
heat  of  an  Englisli  summer,  among  flowers,  and  seeking 


1804]  TO  DANIEL  STUART  477 

shade,  and  courting  the  sea-breezes ;  all  the  trees  in  rich 
foliage,  and  the  corn  knee-high,  and  so  exquisitely  green  1 
and  to  find  myself  forced  to  retain  only  one  flannel  waist- 
coat, and  roam  about  in  a  pair  of  silk  stockings  and  nan- 
keen pantaloons,  is  a  delightfid  transition.  How  I  shall 
bear  the  intensity  of  a  Maltese  or  even  a  Sicilian  summer 
I  cannot  guess ;  but  if  I  get  over  it,  I  am  confident,  from 
what  I  have  experienced  the  last  four  days,  that  their  late 
autumn  and  winter  will  almost  re-create  me.  I  could  fill 
a  fresh  sheet  with  the  description  of  the  singular  faces, 
dresses,  manners,  etc.,  etc.,  of  the  Spaniards,  Moors,  Jews 
(who  have  here  a  peculiar  dress  resembling  a  college 
dress),  Greeks,  Italians,  English,  etc.,  that  meet  in  the 
hot  crowded  streets  of  the  town,  or  walk  under  the  aspea 
poplars  that  form  an  Exchange  in  the  very  centre.  But 
words  would  do  nothing.  I  am  sure  that  any  yoimg  man 
who  has  a  turn  for  character-painting  might  pass  a  year 
on  the  Rock  with  infinite  advantage.  A  dozen  plates  by 
Hogarth  from  this  town !  We  are  told  that  we  shall  not 
sail  to-morrow  evening.  The  Leviathan  leaves  us  and 
goes  to  join  the  fleet,  and  the  Maidstone  Frigate  is  to 
convoy  us  to  Malta.  When  you  write,  send  one  letter  to 
me  at  Mr.  J.  C.  Motley's,  Portsmouth,  and  another  by 
the  post  to  me  at  Dr.  Stoddart's,!  Malta,  that  I  may  see 
which  comes  first.  God  grant  that  my  present  health 
may  continue,  and  then  my  after-letters  will  be  better 
worth  the  postage.  But  even  this  scrawl  will  not  be  un- 
welcome to  you,  since  it  tells  you  that  I  am  safe,  improv- 
ing in  my  health,  and  ever,  ever,  my  dear  Stuart,  with 
true  affection,  and  willing  gratitude,  your  sincere  friend, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

In  the  diary  of  his  voyage  on  the  Speedwell  Coleridge 
records  at  greater  length  and  in  a  more  impassioned 
strain   his   first    impressions   of   Gibraltar.     "  Saturday, 

^  Afterwards  Sir  John  Stoddart,  Chief  Justice  of  Malta,  1826-39. 


478  A  LONG  ABSP:NCE  [April 

April  21st,  went  again  on  shore,  walked  np  to  the  further- 
most signal-house,  the  summit  of  tliat  third  and  last 
segment  of  the  mountain  ridge  which  looks  over  the  blue 
sea  to  Africa.  The  mountains  around  me  did  not  any- 
where arrange  tliemselves  strikingly,  and  few  of  their 
shapes  were  striking.  One  great  pyramidal  summit  far 
above  the  rest,  on  the  coast  of  Spain,  and  an  uncouth 
form,  an  old  Giant's  Head  and  shoulders,  looking  in  upon 
us  from  Africa  far  inland,  were  the  most  impressive ;  but 
the  sea  was  so  blue,  calm,  sunny,  so  majestic  a  lake  where 
it  is  enshored  by  mountains,  and,  where  it  is  not  [en- 
shored],  having  its  indefiniteness  the  more  felt  from  those 
huge  mountain  boundaries,  which  yet  by  their  greatness 
prepared  the  mind  for  the  sublimity  of  unbounded  ocean 
—  altogether  it  reposed  in  the  brightness  and  quietness  of 
the  noon  —  majestic,  for  it  was  great  with  an  inseparable 
character  of  unity,  and,  thus,  the  more  touching  to  me  who 
had  looked  from  far  loftier  mountains  over  a  far  more 
manifold  landscape,  the  fields  and  habitations  of  English- 
men, children  of  one  family,  one  religion,  and  that  my 
own,  the  same  language  and  manners  —  by  every  hill,  by 
every  river  some  sweet  name  familiar  to  my  ears,  or,  if 
first  heard,  remembered  as  soon  as  heard  !  But  here,  on 
this  side  of  me,  Spaniards,  a  degraded  race  that  dishonour 
Christianity  ;  on  the  other.  Moors  of  many  nations, 
wretches  that  dishonour  human  nature !  If  any  one  were 
near  me  and  could  tell  me,  '  that  mountain  yonder  is 
called  so  and  so,  and  at  its  foot  runs  such  and  such  a 
river,'  oh,  with  how  blank  an  ear  should  I  listen  to 
sounds  wliich  probably  my  tongue  could  not  repeat,  and 
which  I  should  be  sure  to  forget,  and  take  no  pleasure  in 
remembering!  And  the  Rock  itself,  on  which  I  stand 
(nearly  tlie  same  in  length  as  our  Carrock,  but  not  so  high, 
nor  one  tenth  as  wide),  what  a  comi)lex  Thing  !  At  its 
feet  mighty  ramparts  establishing  themselves  in  the  sea 
with  their  huge  artillery,  hollow   trunks    of    iron  where 


1804]  FROM  COLERIDGE'S   DIARY  479 

Death  and  Thunder  sleej) ;   the  gardens  in  deep  moats 
between  lofty  and  massive  walls ;  a  town  of  all  nations 
and  all  languages  —  close  below  me,  on  my  left,  fields  and 
gardens  and  neat  small  mansions  —  poplars,  cypresses,  and 
willow-leaved  aspens,  with  fences  of  prickly  aloe  —  strange 
plant  that  does  not  seem  to  be  alive,  but  to  have  been  so, 
a  thing  fantastically  carved  in  wood,  and  coloured  —  some 
hieroglyphic  or  temple  ornament  of  undiscovered  mean- 
ing.    On  my  right  and  immediately  with  and  aroimd  me 
white  stone   above   stone,   an   irregular   heap  of  marble 
rocks,  with  flowers  growing  out  of  the  holes  and  fissures, 
and   palmettoes    everywhere  .  .  .  beyond   these    an   old 
Moorish  tower,  and  then  galleries  and  halls  cut  out  by 
human  labour  out  of  the  dense  hard  rock,  with  enormous 
cannon  the  apertures  for  which  no  eye  could  distinguish, 
from  the  sea  or  the  land  below  them,  from  the  nesting- 
holes    of    seafowl.     On  the   north  side,  aside  these,  one 
absolutely  perpendicular  precipice,  the  absolute  length  of 
the   Rock,  at  its  highest  a  precipice  of  1,450  feet  —  the 
whole  eastern  side  an  unmanageable  mass  of  stones  and 
weeds,  save  one  place  where  a  perpendicular  precipice  of 
stone  slants  suddenly  off  in  a  swelling  slope  of  sand  like 
the  Screes  on  Wastwater.     The  other  side  of  this    rock 
5,000  men  in  arms,  and  no  less  than  10,000  inhabitants  — 
in  this  [side]  sixty  or  seventy  apes !  What  a  multitude,  an 
almost  discordant  complexity  of  associations !    The  Pillars 
of  Hercules,  Calpe,  and  Abyla,  the  realms  of  Masinissa, 
Jugurtha,   and  Syphax :    Spain,  Gibraltar :  the  Dey   of 
Algiers,    dusky   Moor   and   black    African,    and   others. 
Quiet  it  is  to  the  eye,  and  to  the  heart,  which  in  it  will 
entrance  itself  in  the  present  vision,  and  know  nothing, 
feel  nothing,  but  the  abiding  things  of  Nature,  great,  calm, 
majestic,  and  one  !     From  the  road  I  climbed  up  among 
the  rocks,  crushing  the  tansy,  the  strong  smell  of  which 
the  open   air  reconciled  to  me.     I  reached  the  '  striding 
edge,'  where,  as  I  sate,  I  fell  into  the  above  musing." 


480  A  LONG  ABSENCE  [June 


CLIII.     TO    HIS    WIFE. 

[Malta,]  June,  1804. 
[My  dear  Saka,]  —  [I  wvote]  to  Southey  from  Gi- 
l)ralt:u\  directing  you  to  open  the  letter  in  case  Southey 
shoul«l  be  in  town.  You  received  it,  I  trust,  and  learnt 
from  it  that  I  had  been  pretty  well,  and  that  we  had  had  a 
famous  quick  passage.  At  Gibraltar  we  stayed  five  days, 
and  so  lost  our  fair  wind,  and  [during  our]  after-voyage  to 
Malta  [there]  was  [a]  storm,  that  carried  away  our  main 
yard,  etc.,  long  dead  calms,  every  rope  of  the  whole  ship  re- 
flected in  the  bright,  soft  blue  sea,  and  light  winds,  often 
varying  every  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  more  often  against 
us  than  for  us.  We  were  the  best  sailing  vessel  in  the 
whole  convoy ;  but  every  day  we  had  to  lie  by  and  wait 
for  the  laggards.  This  is  very  disheartening ;  likewise 
the  frequent  danger  in  light  winds  or  calms,  or  in  foggy 
weatlier  of  running  foul  of  each  other  is  another  heavy 
inconvenience  of  convoy,  and,  in  case  of  a  deep  calm  in  a 
narrow  sea,  as  in  the  Gut  of  Gibraltar  and  in  the  Archi- 
pelago, etc.,  where  calms  are  most  common,  a  privateering 
or  piratical  row-boat  might  board  you  and  make  slaves  of 
you  mider  the  very  nose  of  the  man-of-war,  which  would 
lie  a  lifeless  hulk  on  the  smooth  water.  For  these  row- 
boats,  mounting  from  one  to  four  or  five  guns,  would  in- 
stantly sink  a  man-of-war's  boat,  and  one  of  them,  last 
war,  had  very  nearly  made  a  British  frigate  sti'iJce.  I 
mention  these  facts  because  it  is  a  common  notion  that 
going  under  convoy  you  are  "  as  snug  as  a  bug  in  a  rug." 
If  I  had  gone  without  convoy  on  board  the  Speedwell,  we 
should  have  reached  Malta  in  twenty  days  from  the 
day  I  left  Portsmouth,  but,  however,  we  were  congratu- 
lated on  having  had  a  very  r/ood  passage  for  the  time  of 
the  year,  having  been  only  forty  days  including  our  stay 
at  Gibraltar ;  and  if  there  be  inconvenience  in  a  convoy, 
I  have  reason  to  know  and  to  be  grateful  for  its  advantages. 


1804]  TO  HIS  WIFE  481 

The  whole  of  the  voyage  from  Gibraltar  to  Malta,  except- 
ing the  four  or  five  last  days,  I  was  wretchedly  unwell.  .  .  . 
The  harbour  at  Valetta  is  narrow  as  the  neck  of  a  bottle 
in  the  entrance ;  but  instantly  opens  out  into  a  lake  with 
tongues  of  land,  capes,  one  little  island,  etc.,  etc.,  where 
the  whole  navy  of  England  might  lie  as  in  a  dock  in  the 
worst  of  weather.  All  around  its  banks,  in  the  form  of 
an  amphitheatre,  rise  the  magnificent  houses  of  Valetta, 
and  its  two  over-the-water  towns,  Burmola  and  Flavia 
(which  are  to  Valetta  what  the  Borough  is  to  London). 
The  houses  are  all  lofty  and  built  of  fine  white  freestone, 
something  like  Bath,  only  still  whiter  and  newer  looking, 
yet  the  windows,  from  the  prodigious  thickness  of  the 
walls,  being  all  out  of  sight,  the  whole  appeared  to  me  as 
Carthage  to  ^neas,  a  proud  city,  well  nigh  but  not  quite 
finished.  I  walked  up  a  long  street  of  good  breadth,  all  a 
flight  of  stairs  (no  place  for  beast  or  carriage,  each  broad 
stair  composed  of  a  cement-sand  of  terra  j>ozzolana^  hard 
and  smooth  as  the  hardest  pavement  of  smooth  rock  by 
the  seaside  and  very  like  it).  I  soon  found  out  Dr.  Stod- 
dart's  house,  which  seemed  a  large  pile  of  building.  He 
was  not  at  home,  but  I  stayed  for  him,  and  in  about  two 
hours  he  came,  and  received  me  with  an  explosion  of  sur- 
prise and  welcome  —  move  fun  than  affection  in  the  man- 
ner, but  just  as  I  wished  it.  .  .  .  Yesterday  and  to-day  I 
have  been  pretty  well.  In  a  hot  climate,  now  that  the 
glass  is  high  as  80  in  the  shade,  the  healthiest  persons  are 
liable  to  fever  on  the  least  disagreement  of  food  with  the 
first  passages,  and  my  general  health  is,  I  would  fain  be- 
lieve, better  on  the  ivhole.  ...  I  will  try  the  most  scruiju- 
lous  regimen  of  diet  and  exercise ;  and  I  rejoice  to  find 
that  the  heat,  great  as  it  is,  does  not  at  all  annoy  me.  In 
about  a  fortnight  I  shall  probably  take  a  trip  into  Sicily, 
and  spend  the  next  two  or  three  months  in  some  cooler 
and  less  dreary  place,  and  return  in  September.  For 
eight  mouths  in  the  year  the  climate  of  Malta  is  delight- 


482  A  LONG  ABSENCE  [June 

fill,  l)ut  a  (livarii'i-  place  eye  never  saw.     No  stream  in  the 
wholi-  island,  only  one  plaee  of  springs,  which  are  conveyed 
by  aipieducts  and  suj^ijly  the  island  with  about  one  third 
of  its  water  :    the  other  two  thirds  they  depend  for  upon 
the  rain.     And  the  reservoirs  under  the  houses,  walls,  etc., 
to  preserve  the  rain  are  stupendous  !     The  tops  of  all  the 
houses  are  flat,  and  covered  with  that  smooth,  hard  com- 
position, and  on  these  and  every^vhere  where  rain  can  fall 
are  channels  and  jiipes  to  conduct  it  to  the  reservoirs. 
Malta  is  about  twenty  miles  by  twelve  —  a  mere  rock  of 
freestone.     In  digging  out  this  they  find  large  quantities 
of  vegetable  soil.      They  separate  it,  and  with  the  stones 
they  build  their  houses  and  garden  and  field  walls,  all  of 
an  enormous  thickness.     The  fields  are  seldom  so  much  as 
half  an  acre  ZH  one  above  another  in  that  form,  so  that 
everything  gTows  as  in  huge  garden  pots.      The  whole 
island  looks  like  one  monstrous  fortification.       Nothing 
green  meets  your  eye  —  one  dreary,  grey- white,  —  and  all 
the  country  towns  from  the  retirement  and  invisibility  of 
the  windows  look  like  towns  burnt  out  and  desolate.     Yet 
the  fertility  is  marvellous.     You  almost  see  things  grow, 
and  the  population  is,  I  suppose,  unexampled.     The  toAvn 
of  Valetta  itself   contains   about  one   hundred  and  ten 
streets,  all  at  right  angles  to  each  other,  each  having  from 
twelve  to  fifty  houses ;   but  many  of  them  very  steep  —  a 
few  staired  all  across,  and  almost  all,  in  some  part  or 
other,  if  not  the  whole,  having  the  footway  on  each  side 
so  staired.     The  houses  lofty,  all  looking  new.     The  good 
houses   are   built  with   a   court    in   the   centre,  and    the 
rooms  large  and  lofty,  from  sixteen  to  twenty  feet  high, 
and  walls   enormously  thick,  all  necessary  for   coohiess. 
The  fortifications  of  Valetta  are  endless.     When  I  first 
walked  about  them,  I  was  struck  all  of  a  heap  with  their 
strangeness,  and  when  I  came  to  understand  a  little  of 
their  purpose,  I  was  overwhelmed  with  wonder.     Such 
vast  masses  —  bidky  mountain-breasted  heights;  gardens 


1804 


TO  HIS  WIFE 


483 


with  pomegranate  trees  —  the  prickly  pears  in  the  fosses, 
and  the  caper  (the  most  beautiful  of  flowers)  growing 
profusely  in  the  interstices  of  the  high  walls  and  on  the 
battlements.  The  Maltese  are  a  dark,  light-limbed  people. 
Of  the  women  five  tenths  are  ugly ;  of  the  remainder,  four 
fifths  would  be  ordinary  but  that  they  look  so  quaint^  and 
one  tenth,  perhaps,  may  be  called  quaint-pretty.  The  pret- 
tiest resemble  pretty  Jewesses  in  England.  They  are  the 
noisiest   race  ^   under   heaven,  and   Yaletta   the   noisiest 


1  A  note  dated  "Treasury,  July 
20th,  1805,"  gives  vent  to  his  feelings 
on  this  point.  "Saturday  morning 
^  past  nine  o'clock,  and  soon  I  shall 
have  to  brace  up  my  hearing  in  toto, 
(for  I  hear  in  my  brain  —  I  hear,  that 
is,  I  have  an  immediate  and  peculiar 
feeling  instantly  co-adunated  with 
the  sense  of  external  sound  =  (ex- 
actly) to  that  which  is  experienced 
when  one  makes  a  wry  face,  and 
putting  one's  right  hand  palm-wise 
to  the  right  ear,  and  the  left  palm 
pressing  hard  on  the  forehead,  one 
says  to  a  bawler,  '  For  mercy's  sake, 
man !  don't  split  the  drum  of  one's 
ear '  —  sensations  analogous  to  this 
of  various  degrees  of  pain,  even 
to  a  strange  sort  of  uneasy  pleasure. 
I  am  obnoxious  to  pure  sound  and 
therefore  was  saying  —  [N.  B. 
Tho'  I  ramble,  I  always  come  back 
to  sense — the  sense  alive,  tho' 
sometimes  a  limb  of  syntax  broken] 
—  was  saying  that  I  hear  in  my 
brain,  and  still  more  hear  in  my 
stomach).  For  this  ubiquity,  almost 
(for  I  might  safely  add  my  toes  — 
one  or  two,  at  least  —  and  niy  knees) 
for  this  ubiquity  of  the  Tympanum 
auditorium  I  am  now  to  wind  up  my 
courage,  for  in  a  few  seconds  that 
accursed  Reveille,  the  hon-ible  crash 
and  persevering  malignant  torture 


of  the  Pare-de-Drum,  will  attack 
me,  like  a  party  of  yelling,  drunken 
North  American  Indians  attacking 
a  crazy  fort  with  a  tired  garrison, 
out  of  an  ambush.  The  noisiness 
of  the  Maltese  everybody  must  no- 
tice ;  but  I  have  observed  uniformly 
among  them  such  utter  impassive- 
ness  to  the  action  of  sounds  as  that 
I  am  fearful  that  the  verum  will 
be  scarcely  verisimile.  I  have 
heard  screams  of  the  most  frightful 
kind,  as  of  children  run  over  by  a 
cart,  and  running  to  the  window  I 
have  seen  two  children  in  a  parlour 
opposite  to  me  (naked,  except  a 
kerchief  tied  round  the  waist) 
screaming  in  their  horrid  fiendi- 
ness  —  iorfun!  three  adults  in  the 
room  perfectly  unannoyed,  and  this 
suffered  to  continue  for  twenty 
minutes,  or  as  long  as  their  lungs 
enabled  them.  But  it  goes  thro' 
everything,  their  street -cries,  their 
priests,  their  advocates,  their  very 
pigs  yell  rather  than  squeak,  or  both 
together,  rather,  as  if  they  were  the 
true  descendants  of  some  half-dozen 
of  the  swine  into  which  the  Devils 
went,  recovered  by  the  Royal  Hu- 
mane Society.  The  dogs  all  night 
long  would  draw  curses  on  them, 
but  that  the  Maltese  cats  —  it  sur- 
passes description,  for  he  who  has 


io 


484  A  LONG  .VBSENCE  [June 

place.  The  sudden  sliot-ii]i,  explosive  bellows-cries  you 
ever  heard  in  London  would  give  you  the  faintest  idea  of 
it.  Even  when  you  pass  hy  a  fruit  stall  the  fellow  will 
put  his  hand  like  a  speaking-  trumpet  to  his  mouth  and 
shoot  such  a  thunderbolt  of  sound  full  at  you.  Then  the 
endless  jangling  of  those  cursed  bells,  etc.  Sir  Alexander 
Ball  and  General  Valette  (the  civil  and  military  com- 
manders) have  been  marvellously  attentive  —  Sir  A.  B. 
even  friendly  and  confidential  to  me. 

Poor  Mrs.  Stoddart  was  brought  to  bed  of  a  little  girl 
on  the  24tli  of  May,  and  it  died  on  Tuesday,  June  5th. 
On  the  night  of  its  birth,  poor  little  lamb  I  I  had  such  a 
lively  vision  of  my  little  Sara,  that  it  brought  on  a  sort 
of  hysterical  fit  on  me.  O  mercifid  God !  how  I  tremble 
at  the  thought  of  letters  from  England.  I  should  be 
most  miserable  icithout  them,  and  yet  I  shall  receive 
them  as  a  sentence  of  death !  So  terribly  has  fear  got 
the  upper  hand  in  my  habitual  feelings,  from  my  long 
destitution  of  hope  and  joy. 

Hartley,  Derwent,  my  sweet  children  !  a  father's  bless- 
ing on  you  I  With  tears  and  clasped  hands  I  bless  you. 
Oh,  I  must  write  no  more  of  this.  I  have  been  haunted 
by  the  thought  that  I  have  lost  a  box  of  books  containing 
Shakespeai-e  (Stockdale's),  the  four  or  five  first  volumes 
of  the  "  British  Poets,"  Young's  "  Syllabus  "(a  red  paper 
book),  Condillac's  "Logic,"  "Thornton  on  Public  Credit," 
etc.  Be  sure  you  inform  me  whether  or  no  I  did  take 
these  books  from  Keswick.  I  will  write  to  Southey  by 
the  next  opportunity.  You  recollect  that  I  went  away 
without  knowing  the  result  of  Edith's  confinement ;  not 
a  day  in  which  I  do  not  think  of  it. 

only  lieard  caterwauling  on  English  screams  uttered  by  imps  while  they 

roofs   can    have  no   idea   of   a   cat-  are  dragging-  each  other  into  hotter 

serenafle  in  Malta.      In  England  it  and  still  hotter  pools  of  brimstone 

has  often  a  close  and  painful  resem-  and  fire.     It  is  the  discord  of  Tor- 

blance    to    the   distressful    cries    of  ment  and  of  Rage  and  of  Hate,  of 

young  children,  but    in  Malta  it  is  paroxysms   of    Revenge,   and   every 

identical   with   the   wide    range   of  note  grumbles  away  into  Despair." 


1804]  TO   DANIEL   STUART  485 

My  love  to  dear  Southey,  and  remember  me  to  Mr. 
Jackson,  and  Mrs.  Wilson  with  the  kindest  words,  and  to 
Mary  Stamper.  My  kind  remembrances  to  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
"Wilkinson,  and  to  the  Calverts.  How  is  your  sister  Mary 
in  her  spirits?  My  wishes  and  prayers  attend  her.  I 
am  anxious  to  hear  about  poor  George  and  shall  write 
about  him  to  Portsmouth  in  the  course  of  a  week,  for  by 
that  time  a  convoy  will  be  going  to  England  as  we  expect. 
I  hope  that  in  the  course  of  three  weeks  or  a  month  I 
may  be  able  to  give  a  more  promising  account  of  my 
health.  As  it  is,  I  have  reason  to  be  satisfied.  The  ef- 
fect of  years  cannot  be  done  away  in  a  few  weeks.  I  am 
tranquil  and  resigned,  and,  even  if  I  should  not  bring 
back  health,  I  shall  at  least  bring  back  exiserience,  and 
suffer  with  patience  and  in  silence.  Again  and  again 
God  bless  you,  my  dear  Sara  !  Let  me  know  everything 
of  your  health,  etc.,  etc.  Oh,  the  letters  are  on  the  sea 
for  me,  and  what  tidings  may  they  not  bring  to  me ! 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

Single  sheet.     Per  Germania  a  Londra.     An.  1804. 

CLIV.    TO    DANIEL    STUART. 

Syeacuse/  October  22,  1804. 
My  dear  Stuart,  —  I  have  written  you  a  long  letter 
this  morning  by  way  of  Messina,  and  from  other  causes 

1  The  first  Sicilian  tour  extended  The  notes  -which  he  took  of  his 
from  the  middle  of  August  to  the  visit  to  Etna  are  fragmentary  and 
7th  of  November,  1804.  Two  or  imperfect,  but  the  description  of 
three  days,  August  19-21,  were  Syracuse  and  its  surroundings  occu- 
spent  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Etna,  pies  many  pages  of  his  note-book. 
He  slept  at  Nicolosi  and  visited  the  Under  the  heading,  "  Timoleon's, 
Hospice  of  St.  Nicola  dell'  Arena.  Oct.  18,  1804,  Wednesday,  noon," 
It  is  unlikely  that  he  reached  the  he  writes :  "  The  Gaza  and  Tree  at 
actual  summit,  but  two  ascents  were  Tremiglia.  Rocks  with  cactus,  pen- 
made,  probably  to  the  limit  of  the  dulous  branches,  seed-pods  black  at 
wooded  region.  A  few  days  later,  the  same  time  with  the  orange-yeh 
August  24,  he  reached  Syracuse,  low  flower,  and  little  daisy-like  tnfta 
where  he  was  hospitably  entertained  of  silky  hair.  .  .  .  Timoleon's  villa, 
by    H.   M.    Consul    G.    F.    Lecky.  supposed  to  be  in  the  field  above  the 


486 


A   LONG  ABSENCE 


[Feb. 


am  so  done  up  and  hrain  weary  that  I  must  put  you  to 
the  expense  of  this  as  ahuost  a  blank,  except  that  you  will 
be  pleased  to  observe  my  attention  to  business  in  having 
written  two  letters  of  advice,  as  well  as  transmitted  first 
and  second  of  excliange  for  <£50  which  I  have  drawn  upon 
you,  payable  to  order  of  Dr.  Stoddart  at  usance.  I  shall 
want  no  more  for  my  return.  I  shall  stay  a  month  at 
Messina,  and  in  that  time  visit  Naples.  Supposing  the 
letter  of  this  morning  to  miss,  I  ought  to  repeat  to  you 
that  I  leave  the  publication  of  the  Pacquet,^  which  is 
waiting  for  convoy  at  Malta  for  you,  to  your  own  opinion. 


present  house,  from  -which  yon  as- 
cend to  fifty  stairs.  Grand  view  of 
the  harhour  and  sea,  over  that 
tong-ue  of  land  which  forms  the 
anti-Ortygian  embracing  arm  of  the 
harbour,  the  point  of  Plemrayrium 
where  Alcibiades  and  Nicias  landed. 
I  left  the  aqueduct  and  walked 
aseendingly  to  some  ruined  cottages, 
beside  a  delve,  with  straight  lime- 
stone walls  of  rock,  on  which  there 
played  the  shadows  of  the  fig-tree 
and  the  olive.  I  was  on  part  of 
Epipolse,  and  a  glorious  view  in- 
deed !  Before  me  a  neck  of  stony 
common  and  fields  —  Ortygia,  the 
open  sea  and  the  ships,  and  the  circu- 
lar harbour  which  it  embraces,  and 
the  sea  over  that  again.  To  my  right 
that  large  extent  of  plain,  green, 
rich,  finely  wooded ;  the  fields  so 
divided  and  enclosed  that  you,  as  it 
were,  knew  at  the  first  view  that  they 
are  all  hedged  and  enclosed,  and  yet 
no  hedges  nor  enclosings  obtrude 
themselves  —  an  effect  of  the  vast 
number  of  trees  of  the  same  sort. 
On  my  left,  stony  fields,  two  har- 
bours, Magnisi  and  its  sand  isle,  and 
Augtista,  and  Etna,  whose  smoke 
mingles  with  the  clouds  even  as  they 


rise  from  the  crater.  .  .  .  Still  as  I 
walk  the  lizard  gliding  darts  along 
the  road,  and  immerges  himself 
under  a  stone,  and  the  grasshopper 
leaps  and  tumbles  awkwardly  be- 
fore me." 

It  must  have  been  in  anticipation 
of  this  visit  to  Sicily,  or  after  some 
communication  with  Coleridge,  that 
Wordswortli,  after  alluding  to  hia 
friend's  abode,  — 

"  Where  Etna  over  hill  and  vsilley  casta 
His  sliadow  stretching  towards  Syracuse, 
The  city  of  Timoleon," 

gives  utterance  to  that  unusual  out- 
burst of  feeling :  — 

"  Oil !  wrap  him  in  your  shades,  ye  giant 

woods, 
On  Ktiia's  side  ;  and  thou,  0  flowery  field 
Of  Enna  !  is  tliere  not  some  nook  of  tliine, 
From  the  first  play-time  of  the  infant  world 
Kept  sacred  to  restorative  deliglit, 
When  from  afar  invoked  by  anxious  love  ?  " 

Wordsworth's  Poetical  Works,  1889, 
"  The  Prelude,"  Book  XL  p.  319. 

^  A  short  treatise  entitled  Obser- 
vations on  Egypt,  which  is  extant 
in  MS.,  may  have  been  among  the 
papers  sent  to  Stuart  with  a  view 
to  publication. 


1805]  TO  ROBERT  SOUTHEY  487 

If  the  information  appear  new  or  valuable  to  you,  and 
the  letters  themselves  entertaining,  etc.,  publish  them ; 
only  do  not  sell  the  copyright  of  more  than  the  right  of 
two  editions  to  the  bookseller.  He  will  not  give  more,  or 
much  more  for  the  copyright  of  the  whole. 

May  God  bless  you !  I  am,  and  shall  be  as  long  as  I 
exist,  your  truly  grateful  and  affectionate  friend, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CLV.    TO   EOBERT   SOUTHEY. 

Sat.  morning,  4  o'clock.     Treasury,  Malta. 
February  2,  180.5. 

Dear  Southey,  —  A  Privateer  is  to  leave  this  Port 
to-day  at  noon  for  Gibraltar,  and,  it  chancing  that  an  offi- 
cer of  rank  takes  his  passage  in  her.  Sir  A.  Ball  trusts 
his  dispatches  with  due  precaution  to  this  unusual  mode 
of  conveyance,  and  I  must  enclose  a  letter  to  you  in  the 
government  parcel.  I  pray  that  the  lead  attached  to  it 
will  not  be  ominous  of  its  tardy  voyage,  much  less  of  its 
making  a  diving  tour  whither  the  spirit  of  Shakespeare 
went,  under  the  name  of  the  Dreaming  Clarence.^  Cer- 
tain it  is  that  I  awoke  about  some  half  hour  ago  from  so 
vivid  a  dream  that  the  work  of  sleep  had  completely  de- 
stroyed all  sleepiness.  I  got  up,  went  to  my  office-room, 
rekindled  the  wood-fire  for  the  purpose  of  writing  to  you, 
having  been  so  employed  from  morn  till  eve  in  writing 
public  letters,  some  as  long  as  memorials,  from  the  hour 
that  this  opportimity  was  first  announced  to  me,  that  for 
onc6  in  my  life,  at  least,  I  can  with  strict  truth  affirm  that 
I  have  had  no  time  to  write  to  you,  if  by  time  be  under- 
stood the  moments  of  life  in  which  our  powers  are  alive. 
I  am  well  —  at  least,  till  within  the  last  fortnight  I  ivas 
perfectly  so,  till  the  news  of  the  sale  of  my  blessed  house 
played  "  the  foe  intestine  "  with  me.  But  of  that  here- 
after. 

^  Shakespeare,  Richard  III.,  Act  I.  Scene  4, 


488  A  LONG  ABSENCE  [Feb. 

!My  dear  Southey !  ^  the  longer  I  live,  and  the  more  I 
see,  know,  and  think,  the  more  deeply  do  I  seem  to  know 
and  feel  your  goodness ;  and  why,  at  this  distance,'  may  I 
not  allow  myself  to  utter  forth  my  whole  thought  hy  add- 
ing your  f/rcatnef^s  ?  "  Thy  kingdom  come  "  will  have 
been  a  petition  already  granted,  when  in  the  minds  and 
hearts  of  all  men  both  words  mean  the  same ;  or  (to  shake 
off  a  state  of  feeling  deeper  than  may  be  serviceable  to 
me)  when  gulielmosartorially  speaking  (i.  e.  William 
"Taylorice")  the  latter  word  shall  have  become  an  incur- 
able sjmonym,  a  lumberly  duplicate,  thrown  into  the  ken- 
nel of  the  Lethe-lapping  Chronos  Anubioeides,^  as  a  car- 
riony,  bare-ribbed  tautology.  Oh  me  !  it  will  not  do !  You, 
my  children,  the  Wordsworths,  are  at  Keswick  and  Gras- 
mere,  and  I  am  at  Malta,  and  it  is  a  silly  hypocrisy  to 
pretend  to  joke  when  I  am  hea\y  at  heart.  By  the  acci- 
dent of  the  sale  of  a  dead  Colonel's  effects,  who  arrived 
in  this  healing  climate  too  late  to  be  healed,  I  procured 
the  perusal  of  the  second  volume  of  the  "Annual  Keview." 
I  was  suddenly  and  strangely  affected  by  the  marked  at- 
tention which  you  had  paid  to  my  few  hints,  by  the  inser- 
tion of  my  joke  on  Booker ;  but  more,  far  more  than  all, 
by  the  affection  for  me  which  peeped  forth  in  that  "  Wil- 
liam Brown  of  Ottery."  I  knew  you  stopped  before  and 
after  you  had  written  the  words.  But  I  am  to  speak  of 
your  reviews  in  general.  I  am  confident,  for  I  have  care- 
fully reperused  almost  the  whole  volume,  and  what  I  knew 
or  detected  to  be  yours  I  have  read  over  and  over  again, 

^  He    Lad,    perhaps,    something  they  may  be  excused,  and  when  they 

more  than  a  suspicion  that  Southey  are  not,  there  is  no  excuse  for  them." 

disliked  these  protestations.     In  the  Life  and  Correspondence,  ii.  266. 

letter  of  friendly  remonstrance  (Feb-  -  Cynocephalus,       Dog  -  visaged. 

ruary,   1804),  which  Southey  wrote  Compare   Milton's   "Hymn   on   the 

to  him  after  the  affair  with  Godwin,  Nativity:"  — 


he  admits  that  he  may  be  "  too  in 
tolerant  of  these  phrases,"  but,  in 
deed,  he  adds,  "when  they  are  true, 


,  r     1  t  ,  "  ^''^  brutish  gods  of  Nile  as  fast, 

tolerant  of  tliese  phrases,     but,  m-     igj^  ^^^  Orus  and  the  dog  Anubis  haste." 


1805]  TO  ROBERT  SOUTHEY  489 

with  as  much  care  and  as  little  warping  of  partiality  as  if 
it  had  been  a  manuscript  of  my  own  going  to  the  press  — 
I  can  say  confidently  that  in  my  best  judgment  they  are 
models  of  good  sense  and  correct  style ;  of  high  and  hon- 
est feeling  intermingled  with  a  sort  of  wit  which  (I  now 
translate  as  truly,  though  not  as  verbally,  as  I  can,  the 
sense  of  an  observation  which  a  literary  Venetian,  who 
resides  here  as  the  editor  of  a  political  journal,  made  to 
me  after  having  read  your  reviews  of  Clarke's  "  Mari- 
time Discoveries  ")  unites  that  happy  turn  of  words,  which 
is  the  essence  of  French  wit,  with  those  comic  picture- 
making  combinations  of  fancy  that  characterises  the  old 
wit  of  old  England.  If  I  can  find  time  to  copy  off  what 
in  the  hurry  of  the  moment  I  wrote  on  loose  papers  that 
cannot  be  made  up  into  a  letter  without  subjecting  you 
to  an  expense  wholly  disproportionate  to  their  value,  I 
shall  prove  to  you  that  I  have  been  watchful  in  marking 
what  appeared  to  me  false,  or  better-not,  or  hetter-otlier- 
wise,  parts,  no  less  than  what  I  felt  to  be  excellent.  It 
is  enough  to  say  at  present,  that  seldom  in  my  course  of 
reading  have  I  been  more  deeply  impressed  than  by  the 
sense  of  the  diffused  good  they  were  likely  to  effect.  At 
the  same  time  I  could  not  help  feeling  to  how  many  false 
and  pernicious  principles,  both  in  taste  and  in  politics, 
they  were  likely,  by  their  excellence,  to  give  a  non-nat- 
ural circulation.  W.  Taylor  grows  worse  and  worse. 
As  to  his  political  dogmata  concerning  Egypt,  etc.,  God 
forgive  him  !  He  knows  not  what  he  does !  But  as  to 
his  spawn  about  Milton  and  Tasso  —  nay.  Heaven  forbid 
it  should  be  spawn,  it  is  pure  toad-spit,  not  as  toad-spit 
is,  but  as  it  is  vulgarly  believed  to  be.  (/S'ee,  too,  his  Ar- 
ticle in  the  "  Critical  Revieio.''''^  Now  for  your  feelings 
respecting  "  Madoc."  I  regaixl  them  as  all  nerve  and  stom- 
ach-work, you  having  too  recently  quitted  the  business. 
Genius,  too,  has  its  intoxication,  which,  however  divine, 
leaves  its  headaches  and  its  nauseas.     Of  the  very  best 


490  A  LONG  ABSENCE  [Feb. 

of  tbo  few  Lad,  ^oocl,  aiul  indifferent  things,  I  have  had 
the  same  sensations.  Concerning  the  innnediate  chryso- 
jwetic  i)()wers  of  "  Madoc  "  I  can  only  fear  somewhat  and 
liope  somewhat.  Midas  and  Apollo  are  as  little  cronies 
as  ]Marsyas  and  Apollo.  But  of  its  great  and  lasting 
effects  on  your  fame,  if  I  doubted,  I  should  then  doubt 
all  things  in  which  I  had  hitherto  had  firm  faith.  Nei- 
ther  am  I  without  cheerful  belief  respecting  its  ultimate 
effects  on  your  worldly  fortune.  O  dear  Southey !  when 
I  see  this  booby  with  his  ten  pound  a  day  as  Mr.  Com- 
missary X.,  and  that  thorough-rogue  two  doors  off  him 
with  his  fifteen  pound  a  day  as  Mr.  General  Paymaster 
Y.  Z.,  it  stirs  up  a  little  bile  from  the  liver  and  gives  my 
])oor  stomach  a  pinch,  when  I  hear  you  talk  of  having  to 
look  forward  to  an  £100  or  X150.  But  cheerily !  what 
do  we  comjjlain  of  ?  would  we  be  either  of  these  men  ? 
Oh,  had  I  domestic  happiness,  and  an  assurance  only  of 
the  health  I  now  possess  continuing  to  me  in  England, 
what  a  blessed  creature  should  I  be,  though  I  found  it 
necessary  to  feed  me  and  mine  on  roast  potatoes  for  two 
days  in  each  week  in  order  to  make  ends  meet,  and  to 
awake  my  beloved  with  a  kiss  on  the  first  of  every  Janu- 
ary. "  Well,  my  best  darling !  we  owe  nobody  a  farthing ! 
and  I  have  you,  my  children,  two  or  three  friends,  and  a 
thousand  books  !  "  I  have  written  very  lately  to  Mrs. 
Coleridge.  If  my  letter  reaches  her,  as  I  have  quoted 
in  it  a  part  of  yours  of  Oct.  19th,  she  will  wonder  that 
I  took  no  notice  of  the  house  and  the  BcUygereiit.  From 
Mrs.  C.  I  have  received  no  letter  by  the  last  convoy.  In 
truth  I  am  and  have  reason  to  be  ashamed  to  own  to 
what  a  diseased  excess  my  sensibility  has  worsened  into. 
I  was  so  agitated  by  the  receipt  of  letters,  that  I  did 
not  Viring  myself  to  open  them  for  two  or  three  days,  half- 
dreaming  that  from  there  being  no  letter  from  Mrs.  C. 
some  one  of  the  children  had  died,  or  that  she  herself 
hud  been  ill,  or  —  for  so  help  me  God  !  most  ill-starred 


1805]  TO  ROBERT  SOUTHEY  491 

as  our  mai'riage  has  been,  tliere  is  perhaps  nothing  that 
would  so  frightfully  affect  me  as  any  change  respecting 
her  health  or  life ;  and,  when  I  had  read  about  a  third  of 
your  letter,  I  walked  up  and  down  and  then  out,  and 
much  business  intervening,  I  wi'ote  to  her  before  I  had 
read  the  remainder,  or  my  other  letters.  I  grieve  ex- 
ceedingly at  the  event,  and  my  having  foreseen  it  does 
not  diminish  the  shock.  My  dear  study !  and  that  house 
in  which  such  persons  have  been  !  where  my  Hartley  has 
made  his  first  love-commune  with  Nature,  to  belong  to 
White.  Oh,  how  could  Mr.  Jackson  have  the  heart  to  do 
it !  As  to  the  climate,  I  am  fully  convinced  that  to  an 
invalid  all  parts  of  England  are  so  much  alike,  that  no 
disadvantages  on  that  score  can  overbalance  any  marked 
advantages  from  other  causes.  Mr.  J.  well  knows  that 
but  for  my  absolute  confidence  in  him  I  shoidd  have  taken 
the  house  for  a  long  lease  —  but,  poor  man !  I  am  rather 
to  soothe  than  to  reproach  him.  When  will  he  ever  again 
have  loving:  friends  and  housemates  like  to  us  ?  And  dear 
good  Mrs.  Wilson !  Sm-ely  Mrs.  Coleridge  must  have 
written  to  me,  though  no  letter  has  arrived.  Now  for  my- 
self. I  am  most  anxiously  expecting  the  arrival  of  Mr. 
Chapman  from  Smyrna,  who  is  (by  the  last  ministry  if 
that  shoidd  hold  valid)  appointed  successor  to  Mr.  Macau- 
lay,  as  Public  Secretary  of  Malta,  the  second  in  rank  to 
the  Governor.  Mr.  M.,  an  old  man  of  eighty,  died  on  the 
18th  of  last  month,  calm  as  a  sleeping  baby,  in  a  tremen- 
dous» thunder-and-lightning  storm.  In  the  interim,  I  am 
and  some  fifty  times  a  day  subscribe  myself,  Segretario 
Puhhlico  deir  Isole  di  Malta^  Gozo,  e  delle  loro  dijoen- 
denze.  I  live  in  a  perfect  palace  and  have  all  my  meals 
with  the  Governor ;  but  my  profits  will  be  much  less  than 
if  I  had  employed  my  time  and  efforts  in  my  own  literary 
pursuits.  However,  I  gain  new  insights  and  if  (as  I 
doubt  not  I  shall)  I  return  having  expended  nothing, 
having  paid  all  my  prior  debts  as  well  as  interim  expense 


492  A  LONG  ABSENCE  [April 

(of  the  ^vh\c]\  debts  I  consider  the  XlOO  borrowed  by  me 
from  Sothi'by  on  the  firm  of  W.  Wordsworth,  the  heavi- 
est), with  lu'iilth,  and  some  additional  knowledge  both  in 
thinjis  and  languages,  I  surely  shall  not  have  lost  a  year. 
My  intention  is,  assuredly,  to  leave  this  place  at  the  far- 
thest in  the  latter  end  of  this  month,  whether  by  the  con- 
voy, or  over-land  by  Trieste,  Vienna,  Berlin,  Embden,  and 
Denmark,  but  I  must  be  guided  by  circumstances.  At 
all  events,  it  will  be  well  if  a  letter  should  be  left  for  me 
at  the  "  Courier  "  office  in  London,  by  the  first  of  May, 
informing  me  of  all  which  it  is  necessary  for  me  to  know. 
But  of  one  thing  I  am  most  anxious,  namely,  that  my  as- 
surance money  should  be  paid.  I  pray  you,  look  to  that. 
You  will  have  heard  long  before  this  letter  reaches  you 
that  the  French  fleet  have  escaped  from  Toulon.  I  have 
no  heart  for  politics,  else  I  could  tell  you  how  for  the  last 
nine  months  I  have  been  working  in  memorials  concern- 
ing Egypt,  Sicily,  and  the  coast  of  Africa.  Could  France 
ever  possess  these,  she  would  be,  in  a  far  grander  sense 
than  the  Roman,  an  Empire  of  the  World.  And  what 
would  remain  to  England?  England;  and  that  which 
our  miserable  diplomatists  affect  now  to  despise,  now  to 
consider  as  a  misfortune,  our  language  and  institutions 
in  America.  France  is  blest  by  nature,  for  in  possess- 
ing Africa  she  would  have  a  magnificent  outlet  for  her 
population  as  near  her  own  coasts  as  Ireland  to  ours ; 
an  America  that  must  forever  be  an  integral  i)art  of  the 
mother-country.  Egypt  is  eager  for  France  —  only  eager, 
far  more  eager  for  G.  Britain.  The  imiversal  cry  there 
(I  have  seen  translations  of  twenty,  at  least,  mercan- 
tile letters  in  the  Court  of  Admiralty  here  (in  which  I 
have  made  a  speech  with  a  wig  and  gown,  a  true  Jack 
of  all  Trades),  all  stating  that  the  vox  2)0jmli)  is  Eng- 
lish, Englisli,  if  we  can!  but  Hats  at  all  events! 
(Hats  means  Europeans  in  contradistinction  to  Tur- 
bans.)    God  bless  you,  Southey !      I  wish  earnestly  to 


1805]  TO   DANIEL  STUART  493 

kiss  your  child.     And  all  whom  you  love,  I  love,  as  far 
as  I  can,  for  your  sake. 

For  England.     Per  lughilterra, 
Robert  Southey,  Esqre,  Greta  Hall,  Keswick,  Cumberland. 


CLVI.    TO   DANIEL   STUART. 

Favoured  by  Captain  Maxwell  of  the  Artillery.  — 
N.  B.,  an  amiable  mild  man,  who  is  prej)ared  to  give  you 
any  information. 

Malta,  April  20,  1805. 

Dear  Stuart,  —  The  above  is  a  duplicate,  or  rather 
a  sex  or  sep^em-plicate  of  an  order  sent  off  within  three 
weeks  after  my  draft  on  you  had  been  given  by  me  ;  and 
very  anxious  I  have  been,  knowing  that  all  or  almost  all 
of  my  letters  have  failed.  It  seems  like  a  judgment  on 
me.  Formerly,  when  I  had  the  sure  means  of  conveying 
letters,  I  neglected  my  duty  through  indolence  or  procras- 
tination. For  the  last  year,  when,  having  all  my  heart, 
all  my  hope  in  England,  I  found  no  other  gratification 
than  that  of  writing  to  Wordsworth  and  his  family,  his 
wife,  sister,  and  wife's  sister  ;  to  Southey,  to  you,  to  T. 
Wedgwood,  Sir.  G.  Beaumont,  etc.  Indeed,  I  have  been 
supererogatory  in  some  instances  —  but  an  evil  destiny 
has  dogged  them  —  one  large  and  (forgive  my  vanity  !) 
rather  important  set  of  letters  to  you  on  Sicily  and  Egypt 
were  destroyed  at  Gibraltar  among  the  papers  of  a  most 
excellent  man.  Major  Adye,  to  whom  I  had  entrusted  them 
on  his  departure  from  Sicily,  and  who  died  of  the  Plague 
FOUR  DAYS  after  his  arrival  at  Gibraltar.  But  still  was  I 
afflicted  (shame  on  me  !  even  to  violent  weeping)  when 
aU  my  many,  many  letters  were  thrown  overboard  from 
the  Arrow,  the  Acheron,  and  a  merchant  vessel,  to  all 
which  I  had  entrusted  them ;  the  last  through  my  own 
over  care.  For  I  delivered  them  to  the  captain  with  great 
pomp  of  seriousness,  in  my  official  character  as  Public 


494 


A  LONG  ABSENCE 


[April 


Secretary  of  tlie  Islands.'  lie  took  them,  and  consider- 
ing them  as  puhlie  papers,  on  being  close  chased  and 
expecting  to  be  boarded,  threw  them  overboard ;  and  he, 
however,  escaped,  steering  for  Africa,  and  returned  to 
IMalta.     But  regrets  are  idle  things. 

In  my  letter,  which  will  accompany  this,  I  have  detailed 
my  health  and  all  that  relates  to  me.  In  case,  however, 
that  letter  shoidd  not  arrive,  I  will  simply  say,  that  till 
within  the  last  two  months  or  ten  weeks  my  health  had 
improved  to  the  utmost  of  my  hopes,  though  not  without 
some  intrusions  of  sickness ;  but  latterly  the  loss  of  my 
letters  to  England,  the  almost  entire  non-arrival  of  letters 
from  England,  not  a  single  one  from  Mrs.  Coleridge  or 
Southey  or  you ;  and  only  one  from  the  Wordsworths, 
and  that  dated  September,  1804 !  my  consequent  heart- 
saddening  anxieties,  and  still,  still  more,  the  depths  which 
Captain  John  Wordsworth's  death  ^  sunk  into  my  heart. 


1  A  printed  slip,  cut  off  from  some 
public  document,  has  been  preserved 
in  one  of  Coleridge's  note-books. 
It  runs  thus:  "Segreteria  del  Go- 
vemo  11  29  Gennajo  1805.  Samuel 
T.  Coleridge  Seg.  Pub.  del.  Commis. 
Regio.  G.  N.  Zamniit  Pro  segre- 
tario."  His  actual  period  of  office 
extended  from  January  18  to  Sep- 
tember G,  1805. 

^  John  Wordsworth,  the  poet's 
younger  brother,  the  original  of  Leon- 
ard in  "  The  Brothers,"  and  of  "  The 
Happy  Warrior,"  was  drowned  off 
the  Bill  of  Portland,  February  5, 
1805.  In  a  letter  to  Sir  G.  Beau- 
mont, dated  February  11,  1805, 
Wordsworth  writes:  "I  can  say 
nothing  higher  of  my  ever-dear 
brother  than  that  he  was  worthy 
of  his  sister,  who  is  now  weeping 
beside  me,  and  of  the  friendship  of 
Coleridge ;  meek,  affectionate,  si- 
lently enthusiastic,  loving  all  quiet 


things,  and  a  poet  in  everything  but 
words."  "  We  have  had  no  tidings 
of  Coleridge.  I  tremble  for  the 
moment  when  he  is  to  hear  of  my 
brother's  death ;  it  will  distress  him 
to  the  heart,  and  his  poor  body  can- 
not bear  sorrow.  He  loved  my 
brother,  and  he  knows  how  we  at 
Grasmere  loved  him."  The  report 
of  the  wreck  of  the  Earl  of  Aber- 
gavenny and  of  the  loss  of  her  cap- 
tain did  not  reach  Malta  till  the  31st 
of  March.  It  was  a  Sunday,  and 
Coleridge,  who  had  been  sent  for  to 
the  Palace,  first  heard  the  news  from 
Lady  Ball.  His  emotion  at  the  time, 
and,  perhaps,  a  petition  to  be  ex- 
cused from  his  duties  brought  from 
her  the  next  day  "  a  kindly  letter  of 
apology."  "Your  strong  feelings," 
she  writes,  ' '  are  too  great  for  your 
health.  I  hope  that  you  will  soon  re- 
cover your  spirits."  But  Coleridge 
took  the  trouble  to  heart.     It  was 


1805]  TO  DANIEL  STUART  495 

and  which  I  heard  abruptly,  and  in  the  very  painfuUest 
way  possible  in  a  public  company  —  all  these  joined  to 
my  disappointment  in  my  expectation  of  returning  to 
England  by  this  convoy,  and  the  quantity  and  variety  of 
my  public  occujjations  from  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning 
to  five  in  the  afternoon,  having  besides  the  most  anxious 
duty  of  writing  public  letters  and  memorials  which  be- 
longs to  my  talents  rather  than  to  my  'pro-tem'pore  office  ; 
these  and  some  other  causes  that  I  cannot  mention  rela- 
tive to  my  affairs  in  England  have  produced  a  sad  change 
indeed  on  my  health ;  but,  however,  I  hope  all  will  be 
well.  ...  It  is  my  present  intention  to  return  home  over- 
land by  Naj)les,  Ancona,  Trieste,  etc.,  on  or  about  the 
second  of  next  month. 

The  gentleman  who  will  deliver  this  to  you  is  Captain 
Maxwell  of  the  Royal  Artillery,  a  well-informed  and 
very  amiable  countryman  of  yours.  He  will  give  you  any 
information  you  wish  concerning  Malta.  An  intelligent 
friend  of  his,  an  officer  of  sense  and  science,  has  entrusted 
to  him  an  essay  on  Lampedusa,^  which  I  have  advised  him 
to  publish  in  a  newspaper,  leaving  it  to  the  Editor  to 
divide  it.  It  may,  perhaps,  need  a  little  softening^  but  it 
is   an   accurate   and   well-reasoned   memorial.     He   only 

the  first  death  in  the  inner  circle  of  one  of    the   rejoicers  .  .  .  and  all 

his  friends ;  it  meant  a  heavy  sorrow  these   were   but   decoys   of    death  ! 

to  those  whom  he  best  loved,   and  Well,  but  a  nobler  feeling  than  these 

it  seemed  to  confirm   the  haunting  vain  regrets  would  become  the  friend 

presentiment  that  death  would  once  of  the  man  whose  last  words  were, 

more    visit  his  family  during    his  '  I  have  done  my  duty !  let  her  go ! ' 

absence  from  home.     Ten  days  later  Let  us  do  our   duty ;   all  else  is  a 

he  writes  (in  a  note-book) :   "  0  dear  dream  —  life    and    death    alike    a 

John   Wordsworth  !     What    joy    at  dream  !     This  short  sentence  would 

Grasmere  that  you  were  made  Cap-  comprise,  I  believe,  the  sum  of  all 

tain  of  the  Abergavenny  !  now  it  was  profound  philosophy,  of  ethics  and 

next  to  certain  that  you  would  in  a  metaphysics,   and    conjointly    from 

few  years  settle  in  your  native  hills,  Plato  to  Fichte.     S.  T.  C." 

and  be  verily  one  of  the  concern.  Then  ^  An     island      midway     between 

came  your  share  in  the  brilliant  ac-  Malta  and  Tunis,  ceded  by  Naples  to 

tion  at  Linois.     I  was  at  Grasmere  Don  Fernandez  in  1802. 
in   spirit  only !   but  in  spirit  I  was 


496  A  LONG  ABSENCE  [July 

wishes  to  s^ve  it puhUcitij,  and  to  have  not  only  his  name 

concealoil,   but  every  circumstance  that  could  lead  to  a 

suspii'ion.     If  after  reading  it  you  approve  of   it,    you 

would   greatly   ol)lige   him  by  giving  it  a  place  in  the 

"  Courier/'     He  is  a  sensible,  independent  man.     For  all 

else  to  my  other  letter.  —  I  am,  dear  Stuart,  with  f aitlif ul 

recollections,  yoiu*  much  obliged  and  tridy  grateful  friend 

and  servant, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

April  20,  1805. 

CLVII.    TO  HIS  WIFE. 

IIalta,  July  21,  1805. 
Dear  Sara,  —  The  Niger  is  ordered  off  for  Gibraltar 
at  a  moment's  warning,  and  the  Hall  is  crowded  with  offi- 
cers and  merchants  whose  oaths  I  am  to  take,  and  ac- 
compts  to  sign.    I  will  not,  however,  suffer  it  to  go  without 
a  line,  and  including  a  draft  for  XllO  —  another  opportu- 
nity will  offer  in  a  week  or  ten  days,  and  I  will  enclose  a 
duplicate  in  a  letter  at  large.     Now  for  the  most  important 
articles.     My  health  had  greatly  improved ;  but  latterly 
it  has  been  very,  very  bad,  in  great  measure  owing  to  de- 
jection of  spirits,  my  letters  having  failed,  the  greater  part 
of  those  to  me,  and  almost  all  mine  homeward.  .  .  .  My 
letters  and  the  duplicates  of  them,  written  with  so  much 
care  and  minuteness  to  Sir  George  Beaumont  —  those  to 
Wedgwood,   to    the    Wordsworths,   to    Southey,   Major 
Adye's  sudden  death,  and  then  the  loss  of  the  two  frigates, 
the  capture  of  a  merchant's  privateer,  all  have  seemed  to 
spite.      No  one  not  absent  on  a  dreary  island,  so  many 
leagues  of  sea  from  England,  can  conceive  the  effect  of 
these  accidents  on  the  spirit  and  inmost  soid.     So  help  me 
Heaven  !  they  have  nearly  broken  my  heart.     And,  added 
to  this,  I  have  been  hoping  and  expecting  to  get  away  for 
England  for   five    months   past,  and   Mr.  Chapman    not 
arriving,  Sir  Alexander's  importunities  have  always  over- 
powered me,  though  my  gloom  has  increased  at  each  dis- 


1805]  TO  HIS  WIFE  497 

appointment.  I  am  determined,  however,  to  go  in  less 
than  a  month.  My  office,  as  Public  Secretary,  the  next 
civil  dignitary  to  the  Governor,  is  a  very,  very  busy  one, 
and  not  to  involve  myself  in  the  resj)onsibility  of  the 
Treasurer  I  have  but  half  the  salary.  I  oftentimes  sub- 
scribe my  name  150  times  a  day,  S.  T.  Coleridge,  Pub. 
Sec.  to  H.  M.  Civ.  Commissi,  or  (if  in  Italian)  Seg.  Pub. 
del  Commiss'  Regio,  and  administer  half  as  many  oaths  — 
besides  which  I  have  the  public  memorials  to  write,  and, 
worse  than  all,  constant  matters  of  arbitration.  Sir  A. 
Ball  is  indeed  exceedingly  kind  to  me.  The  officers  will 
be  impatient.  I  would  I  could  write  a  more  cheerful  ac- 
count of  my  health ;  all  I  can  say  is  that  I  am  better  than 
I  have  been,  and  that  I  was  very  much  better  before  so 
many  circumstances  of  dejection  haj^pened.  I  shoidd 
overset  myself  completely,  if  I  ventured  to  mention  a  sin- 
gle name.     How  deeply  I  love,  O  God!  it  is  agony  at 

morning  and  evening. 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

P.  S.  On  being  abruptly  told  by  Lady  Ball  of  John 
"Wordsworth's  fate,  I  attempted  to  stagger  out  of  the  room 
(the  great  saloon  of  the  Palace  with  fifty  people  present), 
and  before  I  coidd  reach  the  door  fell  down  on  the  ground 
in  a  convulsive  hysteric  fit.  I  was  confined  to  my  room  for 
a  fortnight  after ;  and  now  I  am  afraid  to  open  a  letter,  and 
I  never  dare  ask  a  question  of  any  new-comer.  The  night 
before  last  I  was  much  affected  by  the  sudden  entrance  of 
poor  Reynell  (our  inmate  at  Stowey)  ;  ^  more  of  him  in 
my  next.     May  God  Almighty  bless  you  and  — 

(Signed  with  seal,  E2TH2E.) 
For  England. 

Mrs.  Coleridge,  Kes^m•k,  Cumberland. 
Postmark,  Sept.  8,  1805. 

1  A  description  of  the  cottage  at  ter  at  Thorveston,  was  published  in 

Stowey  and  its  inmates,  contained  in  the  Illustrated  London  News,  April 

a    letter    written    by   Mr.    Richard  22,  1893. 
Reynell  (in  August,  1797)  to  his  sis- 


498  A  LONG  ABSENCE  [June 

CLVIII.    TO   WASHINGTON    ALLSTON. 

Direct  to  me  at  INIr.  Degens,  Leghorn.  God  bless 
you  I 

Tuesday,  June  17,  1806.1 

My  dear  Allston,  —  No  want  of  affection  has  occa- 
sioned my  silence.  Day  after  day  I  expected  Mr.  Wallis. 
Benvennti  received  me  with  almost  insulting  coldness,  not 
even  asking  me  to  sit  down ;  neither  could  I,  by  any  en- 
quiry, find  that  he  ever  returned  my  call,  and  even  in 
answer  to  a  very  polite  note  enquiring  for  letters,  sent  a 
verbal  message,  that  there  was  one,  and  that  I  might  call 
for  it.  However,  within  the  last  seven  or  eight  days  he 
has  called  and  made  his  amende  honourable  ;  he  says  he 
forgot  the  name  of  my  inn,  and  called  at  two  or  three  in 
vain.  Whoo !  I  did  not  tell  him  that  within  five  days  I 
sent  him  a  note  in  which  the  inn  was  mentioned,  and  that 
he  sent  me  a  message  in  consequence,  and  yet  never 
called  for  ten  days  afterwards.  However,  yester-evening 
the  truth  came  out.  He  had  been  bored  by  letters  of 
recommendation,  and  till  he  received  a  letter  from  Mr. 

1  Coleridge  left   Rome    with   his  and   the  arrest  of   all  the  English 

friend  Mr.  Russell  on  Sunday,  May  took  place   at  six."     In  a  letter  to 

18,   1800.     He  liad  received,  so  he  his  brother  George,  which  he  wrote 

tells  us  in  the  liiographia  Literaria,  about  six  months  after  he  returned 

a    secret   warning   from   the    Pope  to   England,   he  says   that   he   was 

that  Napoleon,  whose  animosity  had  warned  to  leave  Rome,  but  does  not 

been     roused    by    articles     in    the  enter  into  particulars.     It  is  a  well- 

Morning  Post,  had  ordered  his  ar-  known  fact  that  Napoleon  read  the 

rest.     A  similar  statement  is  made  leading  articles  in  the  Morning  Post, 

in  a  footnote  to  a  title-page  of  a  pro-  and  deeply  resented  their  tone  and 

posed  reprint  of  newspaper  articles  spirit,   but    whether   Coleridge  was 

(an  anticipation   of  Essays   on  His  rightly  informed  that  an  order  for 

Oun  Times),  which  was  drawn  up  in  his  arrest  had  come  from  Paris,  or 

1817.     ''My  essays,"  he  writes,  "in  whether  he  was  warned  that,  if  with 

theiVornine/Post,  during  the  peace  of  other  Englishmen  he  should  be  ar- 

Amif-ns,  brought  my  life  into  jeop-  rested,  his  connection  with  the  Morn- 

ardy    when    I    waa    at   Rome.     An  ing  Post  would  come  to  light,  must 

order  for  ray  arrest  came  from  Paris  remain  doubtful.  Coleridge's  Works, 

to  Rome  at  twelve  at  niglit  —  by  the  1853,  iii.  309. 
Pope's  goodness  I  was  o£P  by  one  — 


1806]  TO  WASHINGTON  ALLSTON  499 
looked   upon   me   as   a  bore  —  which,  however,  he 


might  and  ought  to  have  got  rid  of  in  a  more  gentlemanly 
manner.  Nothing  more  was  necessary  than  the  day  after 
my  arrival  to  have  sent  his  card  by  his  servant.  But  I 
forgive  him  from  my  heart.  It  should,  however,  be  a 
lesson  to  Mr.  Wallis,  to  whom,  and  for  whom,  he  gives 
letters  of  recommendation. 

I  have  been  dangerously  ill  for  the  last  fortnight,  and 
unwell  enough,  Heaven  knows,  previously ;  about  ten  days 
ago,  on  rising  from  my  bed,  I  had  a  manifest  stroke  of 
palsy  along  my  right  side  and  right  arm.  My  head  felt 
like  another  man's  head,  so  dead  was  it,  that  I  seemed  to 
know  it  only  by  my  left  hand,  and  a  strange  sense  of 
nimibness.  .  .  . 

Enough  of  it,  continual  vexations  and  preyings  upon  the 
spirit  —  I  gave  life  to  my  children,^  and  they  have  re- 
peatedly given  it  to  me ;  for,  by  the  Maker  of  all  things, 
but  for  them  I  woidd  try  my  chance.  But  they  pluck 
out  the  wing-feathers  from  the  mind.  I  have  not  entirely 
recovered  the  sense  of  my  side  or  hand,  but  have  recovered 
the  use.  I  am  harassed  by  local  and  partial  fevers.  This 
day,  at  noon,  we  set  off  for  Leghorn ;  ^  all  passage  through 
the  Italian  States  and  Germany  is  little  other  than  inipos- 

1  An  entry  in  a  note-book,  dated  Come,  come  thou  bleak  December  wind, 

June  7, 180G,  expresses  this  at  greater  And  blow  the  dry  leaves  from  the  tree  ! 

length  :    "  0  my  children  !   whether,  ^^f  »>•  ^'^^  ^  loTe-thought  thro'  me.  Death  - 

°  And  take  a  life  that  wearies  me. 
and  which  of  you  are  dead,  whether 

any  and  which  among  you  are  alive  ^  It  is  difficult  to  trace  his  move- 

I  know  not,   and   were   a  letter  to  ments  during  his  last  week  in  Italy, 

arrive   this  moment  from   Keswick  He   reached   Leghorn  on  Saturday, 

I   fear   that  I  should  be  unable  to  June  7.     Thence  he  made  his  way 

open  it,    so  deep  and    black  is  my  to  Florence  and  returned  to  Pisa  on 

despair.     O  my  children !  My  chil-  a    Thursday,    probably    Thursday, 

drenic  I  gave  you  life  once,  uncon-  June  19,  the  date  of  this  letter.    On 

Bcious  of  the  life  I  was  giving,  and  Sunday,  June   22,  he  was  still  at 

you  as  unconsciously  have  given  life  Pi.sa,  but,  I  take  it,  on  the  eve  of 

to  me."     A  fortnight  later,  he  ends  setting  saQ  for  England.     Fifty-five 

a  similar  outburst  of  despair  with  a  days  later,  August  17,  he  leaped  on 

cry  for  deliverance  :  —  shore  at  Stangate   Creek-     His  ac- 


600  A  LONG  ABSENCE  [Aug. 

sible  for  an  Eni;li.slnuan,  and  Heaven  knows  whether  Leg- 
horn may  not  be  Lloekaded.  However,  we  go  thither, 
and  shall  go  to  England  in  an  American  ship.  Inform 
Mr.  AN'allis  of  this,  and  urge  him  to  make  his  way  — 
assure   him  of  my  anxious  thoughts  and  fervent  wishes 

respecting  him  and  of  my  love  for  T ,  and  his  family. 

Tell  Mr.  Migliorus  [?]  that  I  should  have  written  him 
long  ago  but  for  my  ill  health ;  and  will  not  fail  to  do  it 
on  my  arrival  at  Pisa  —  from  thence,  too,  I  will  write 
a  letter  to  you,  for  this  I  do  not  consider  as  a  letter. 
Nothing  can  surpass  Mr.  Russell's  ^  kindness  and  tender- 
heartedness to  me,  and  his  understanding  is  far  superior 
to  what  it  appears  on  first  acquaintance.  I  will  write  like- 
wise to  Mr.  Wallis  and  conjure  him  not  to  leave  Amelia. 
I  have  heard  in  Leghorn  a  sad,  sad  character  of  one  of 
those  whom  you  called  acquaintance,  but  who  call  you 
their  dear  friend. 

My  dear  Allston,  somewhat  from  increasing  age,  but 
more  from  calamity  and  intense  fra[ternal  affections],  my 
heart  is  not  open  to  more  than  kind,  good  wishes  in  gen- 
eral. To  you,  and  to  you  alone,  since  I  left  England,  I 
have  felt  more,  and  had  I  not  known  the  Wordsworths, 
shoidd  have  esteemed  and  loved  you  ^Vs^  and  mos^/  and, 
as  it  is,  next  to  them  I  love  and  honour  you.     Heaven 

count  of  Pisa  is  hif^lily  charaeteris-  for  many  years  after  in  a  Lecture  on 

tic.     "Of  the  hanging  Tower,"  he  the  History  of  Philosophy,  delivered 

writes,  "  the  Duorao,  the  Cemetery,  January  19,  1819,  he  describes  mi- 

the  Baptistery,  I  shall  say  nothing,  nutely   and   vividly  the    "  Triumph 

except  that  being  all  together  they  of  Death,"  the  great  fresco  in  the 

form    a  wild    mass,    especially  by  Campo  Santo   at  Pisa,   which  was 

moonlight,  when  the  hanging  Tower  formeriy  assigned  to  Orcagna,  but  is 

has   something   of    a    supernatural  now,    I  believe,   attributed   to  Am- 

look ;  but  what  interested  me  with  brogio  and  Pietro  Lorenzetti.     MS. 

a  deeper  interest  were  the  two  hos-  Journal ;  MS.  Heport  of  Lecture. 

pitals,  one  for  men,  one  for  women,"  ^  Mr.  Russell    was   an   artist,   an 

etc.,  and  these  he  proceeds  to  de-  Exeter  man,  whom  Coleridge  met  in 

scribe.     Nevertheless  he  must  have  Rome.     They  were  fellow-travellers 

paid  more  attention  to  the  treasures  in   Italy,  and   returned  together   to 

of  Pisan  art  than  his  note  implies,  England. 


1806]  TO  DANIEL  STUART  501 

knows,  a  part  of  sucli  a  wreck  as  my  head  and  lieart  is 
scarcely  wortk  your  acceptance. 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 


CLIX.     TO   DANIEL   STUART. 

Bell  Inn,  Friday  Street, 
Monday  morning,  August  18,  1806. 

My  DEAR  Sir,  -^  I  arrived  here  from  Staugate  Creek 
last  night,  a  little  after  ten,  and  have  foimd  myseK  so  un- 
usually better  ever  since  I  leaped  on  land  yester-afternoon, 
that  I  am  glad  that  neither  my  strength  nor  spirits  enabled 
me  to  write  to  you  on  my  arrival  in  Quarantine  on  the 
eleventh.  Both  the  captain  and  my  fellow-passengers  were 
seriously  alarmed  for  my  life ;  and  indeed  such  have  been 
my  miremitting  sufferings  from  pain,  sleeplessness,  loath- 
ing of  food,  and  spirits  wholly  despondent,  that  no  motive 
on  earth  short  of  an  awful  duty  would  ever  prevail  on  me 
to  take  any  sea-voyage  likely  to  be  longer  than  three  or 
four  days.  I  had  rather  starve  in  a  hovel,  and,  if  life 
through  disease  become  worthless,  will  choose  a  Roman 
death.  It  is  true  I  was  very  low  before  I  embarked.  .  .  . 
To  have  been  working  so  hard  for  eighteen  months  in  a 
business  I  detested ;  to  have  been  flattered,  and  to  have 
flattered  myself  that  I  should,  on  striking  the  balance,  have 
paid  all  my  debts  and  maintained  both  myself  and  family 
during  my  exile  out  of  my  savings  and  earnings,  including 
my  travels  through  Germany,  through  which  I  had  to  the 
very  last  hoped  to  have  passed,  and  found  myself!  — 
but  enough  !  I  cannot  charge  my  conscience  with  a  single 
extravagance,  nor  even  my  judgment  with  any  other  im- 
prudences than  that  of  suffering  one  good  and  great  man 
to  overpersuade  me  from  month  to  month  to  a  delay  which 
was  gnawing  away  my  very  vitals,  and  in  being  duped  in 
disobedience  to  my  first  feelings  and  previous  ideas  by 
another  diplomatic  Minister.  ...  A  gentleman  offered  to 
take  me  without  expense  to  Rome,  which  I  accepted  with 


o02  A  LONG  ABSENCE  [Aug. 

the  fidl  intention  of  staying  only  a  fortniglit,  and  then  re- 
turnin<^  to  Naples  to  pass  the  winter.  ...  I  left  every- 
thing but  a  good  suit  of  clothes  and  my  shirts,  etc.,  all  my 
letters  of  credit,  manuscripts,  etc.  I  had  not  been  ten 
days  in  Kome  before  the  French  torrent  rolled  down  on 
Naples.  All  return  was  imi^ossible,  and  all  transmission 
of  jiapers  not  only  insecure,  but  being  English  and  many 
of  them  political,  highly  dangerous  both  to  the  sender  and 
sendee,  .  .  .  But  this  is  only  a  fragment  of  a  chapter  of 
contents,  and  I  am  too  much  agitated  to  write  the  details, 
but  will  call  on  you  as  soon  as  my  two  or  three  remaining 
[(/uhieas^  shall  have  put  a  decent  hat  upon  my  head  and 
shoes  ujjon  my  feet.  I  am  literally  afraid,  even  to  cow- 
ardice, to  ask  for  any  person  or  of  any  person.  Including 
the  Quarantine  we  had  fifty-five  days  of  shipboard,  work- 
ing up  against  head-winds,  rotting  and  sweating  in  calms, 
or  running  under  hard  gales  with  the  dead  lights  secured. 
From  the  captain  and  my  fellow-passenger  I  received 
every  possible  tenderness,  only  when  I  was  very  ill  they 
laid  their  wise  heads  together,  and  the  latter  in  a  letter  to 
his  father  begged  him  to  inform  my  family  that  I  had 
arrived,  and  he  trusted  that  they  would  soon  see  me  in 
better  health  and  spirits  than  when  I  had  quitted  them  ;  a 
letter  which  must  have  alarmed  if  they  saw  into  it,  and 
wounded  if  they  did  not.  I  was  not  informed  of  it  till 
tliis  morning.  God  bless  you,  my  dear  sir !  I  have  yet 
cheerful  hopes  that  Heaven  will  not  suffer  me  to  die  de- 
gTaded  by  any  other  debts  than  those  which  it  ever  has 
been,  and  ever  will  be,  my  joy  and  pride  still  to  pay  and 
still  to  owe ;  those  of  a  truly  gratefid  heart,  and  to  you 
among  the  first  of  those  to  whom  they  are  due. 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 


CHAPTER   VIII 
HOME  AND  NO  HOME 

1806-1807 


CHAPTER  VIII 

HOME  AND  NO   HOME 

1806-1807 

CLX.     TO    DANIEL   STUART. 

Monday,  (?)  September  15,  1806. 

My  dear  Stuart,  —  I  arrived  in  town  safe,  but  so 
tired  by  the  next  evening,  that  I  went  to  bed  at  nine  and 
slept  till  past  twelve  on  Sunday.  I  cannot  keep  off  my 
mind  from  the  last  subject  we  were  talking  about ;  though 
I  have  brought  my  notions  concerning  it  to  hang  so  well 
on  the  balance  that  I  have  in  my  own  judgment  few  doubts 
as  to  the  relative  weight  of  the  arguments  persuasive  and 
dissuasive.  But  of  this  "  face  to  face."  I  sleep  at  the 
"Courier"  office,  and  shall  institute  and  carry  on  the  in- 
quiry into  the  characters  of  Mr.  Pitt  and  Mr.  Fox,  and 
having  carried  it  to  the  Treaty  of  Amiens,  or  rather  to 
the  recommencement  of  the  War,  I  propose  to  give  a  full 
and  severe  Critique  of  the  "  Enquiry  into  the  State  of  the 
Nation,"  taking  it  for  granted  that  this  work  does,  on  the 
whole,  contain  Mr.  Fox's  latest  political  creed ;  and  this 
for  the  purpose  of  answering  the  "  Morning  Chronicle  "  (!) 
assertions,  that  Mr.  Fox  was  the  greatest  and  msest  states- 
man ;  that  Mr.  Pitt  was  no  statesman.  I  shall  endeavour 
to  show  that  both  were  undeserving  of  that  high  charac- 
ter ;  but  that  Mr.  Pitt  was  the  better ;  that  the  evils  which 
befell  him  were  undoubtedly  produced  in  great  measure 
by  blimders  and  wickedness  on  the  Continent  which  it 
was  almost  impossible  to  foresee ;  while  the  effects  of 
Mr.  Fox's  measures  must  in  and  of  themselves  produce 
calamity  and  degradation. 


506  HOME  AND  NO  HOME  [Sept. 

To  confess  the  truth,  I  am  by  no  means  pleased  with 
Mr.  Street's  character  of  ISIr.  Fox  as  a  speaker  and  man 
of  intellect.  As  a  piece  of  panegyric,  it  falls  woefully 
short  of  the  Article  in  the  "  Morning  Chronicle  "  in  style 
and  selection  of  thoughts,  and  runs  at  lea«t  equally  far 
beyond  the  bounds  of  truth.  Persons  who  write  in  a 
hurry  are  very  liable  to  contract  a  sort  of  snipt,  convulsive 
style,  that  moves  forward  by  short  repeated  pushes,  with 
iso-chronous  asthmatic  pants,  "  He  —  He  —  He  —  He  — ," 
or  the  like,  beginning  a  dozen  short  sentences,  each  mak- 
ing a  period.  In  this  way  a  man  can  get  rid  of  all  that 
happens  at  any  one  time  to  be  in  his  memory,  with  very 
little  choice  in  the  arrangement  and  no  expenditure  of 
logic  in  the  connection.  However,  it  is  the  matter  more 
than  the  manner  that  displeased  me,  for  fear  that  what  I 
shall  write  for  to-morrow's  "  Courier  "  may  involve  a  kind 
of  contradiction.  To  one  outrageous  passage  I  persuaded 
him  to  add  a  note  of  amendment,  as  it  was  too  late  to  alter 
the  Article  itself.  It  was  impossible  for  me,  seeing  him 
satisfied  with  the  Article  himself,  to  say  more  than  that  he 
appeared  to  me  to  have  exceeded  in  eiUogy.  But  beyond 
doubt  in  the  political  position  occupied  by  the  "  Courier," 
with  so  little  danger  of  being  anticipated  by  the  other 
papers  in  anything  which  it  ought  to  say,  except  some 
obvious  points  which  being  common  to  all  the  papers  can 
give  credit  to  none,  it  woidd  have  been  better  to  have  an- 
nounced his  death,  and  simply  led  the  way  for  an  after 
disquisition  by  a  sort  of  shy  disclosure  with  an  appearance 
of  suppression  of  the  spirit  \vitli  which  it  could  be  con- 
ducted. 

There  are  letters  at  the  Post  Office,  Margate,  for  me. 
Be  so  good  as  to  send  them  to  me,  directed  to  the  "  Cou- 
rier "  office.    I  think  of  going  to  Mr.  Smith's  ^  to-morrow, 

^  William  Smith,  M.  P.  for  Nor-  great  measure  through  his  advice 
■wich,  who  lived  at  Parndon  House,  and  interest  that  Coleridge  obtained 
near  Harlow,  in  Essex.     It  was  in  a     his  Lecturesliip  at  the  Royal  Insti- 


1806]  TO   HIS  WIFE  507 

or  not  at  all.  Whetlier  Mr.  Fox's  death  ^  will  keep  Mr. 
S.  in  town,  or  call  him  there,  I  do  not  know.  At  all 
events  I  shall  return  by  the  time  of  your  arrival. 

May  God  bless  you !     I  am  ever,  my  dear  sir,  as  your 
obliged,  so  your  affectionately  grateful  friend, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CLXI.     TO   HIS   WIFE. 

September  16,  [1806.] 
My  dear  Sara,  —  I  had  determined  on  my  arrival  in 
town  to  write  to  you  at  full,  the  moment  I  could  settle  my 
affairs  and  speak  decisively  of  myself.  Unfortunately  Mr. 
Stuart  was  at  Margate,  and  wdiat  with  my  journey  to  and 
fro,  day  has  passed  on  after  day.  Heaven  knows,  counted 
by  me  in  sickness  of  heart.  I  am  now  obliged  to  return  to 
Parndon  to  Mr.  W.  Smith's,  at  whose  house  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Clarkson  are,  and  where  I  spent  three  or  four  days  a  fort- 
night ago.  The  reason  at  present  is  that  Lord  Howick 
has  sent  a  very  polite  message  to  me  through  Mr.  Smith, 
expressing  his  desire  to  make  my  acquaintance.  To  this 
I  have  many  objections  which  I  want  to  discuss  with 
Mr.  S.,  and  at  all  events  I  had  rather  go  with  him  to 
his  Lordshij^'s  than  by  myself.  Likewise  I  have  had  ap- 
plication from  the  R.  Institution  for  a  course  of  lectures, 
which  I  am  much  disposed  to  accept,  both  for  money  and 
reputation.  In  short,  I  must  stay  in  town  till  Friday 
sen'night ;  for  Mr.  Stuart  returns  to  town  on  Monday 
next,  and  he  relies  on  my  being  there  for  a  very  interest- 
ing private  concern  of  his  own,  in  which  he  needs  both 
my  counsel   and   assistance.      But  on  Friday  sen'night, 

tution.     Ten  years  later  (1817),  on  of  his  old  vigour  gave  battle  on  behalf 

the    occasion    of    the    surreptitious  of  his  brother-in-law  in  the  pages  of 

publication     of      Wat     Tyler,     Mr.  The  Courier.      Essays  on  His  Own 

Smith,  who  was  a  staunch  liberal.  Times,  ill.  939-950. 

denounced  the  Laureate  as  a  "  rene-  ^  Charles  James  Fox  died  on  Sep- 

gade,"  and  Coleridge  with  something  tember  13,  1806. 


608  HOME  AND  NO  HOME  [Dec. 

please  God,  I  shall  quit  town,  and  trust  to  be  at  Kes^vick 
on  IMonday,  Sept.  29th.  If  I  finally  accept  the  lectures, 
I  must  return  by  the  middle  of  November,  but  propose  to 
take  you  and  Hartley  with  me,  as  we  may  be  sure  of 
rooms  cither  in  Mr,  Stuart's  house  at  Knightsbridge,  or 
in  the  Strand.  My  purpose  is  to  divide  my  time  steadily 
between  my  reflections  moral  and  political,  grounded  on 
information  obtained  during  two  years'  residence  in  Italy 
and  the  INIediterranean,  and  the  lectures  on  the  "  Princi- 
ples common  to  all  the  Fine  Arts."  It  is  a  terrible  mis- 
fortune that  so  many  important  papers  are  not  in  my 
power,  and  that  I  must  wait  for  Stoddart's  care  and  alert- 
ness, which,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  Is  not  to  be  relied  on. 
However,  it  is  well  that  they  are  not  in  Paris. 

My  heart  aches  so  cruelly  that  I  do  not  dare  trust  my- 
self to  the  writing  of  any  tenderness  either  to  you,  my 
dear,  or  to  our  dear  children.  Be  assured,  I  feel  with 
deep  though  sad  affection  toward  you,  and  hold  your 
character  in  general  in  more  than  mere  esteem  —  in  rever- 
ence. ...  I  do  not  gather  strength  so  fast  as  I  had  ex- 
pected ;  but  this  I  attribute  to  my  very  great  anxiety.  I 
am  indeed  very  feeble^  but  after  fifty-five  days  of  such 
horrors,  following  the  dreary  heart-wasting  of  a  year  and 
more,  it  is  a  wonder  that  I  am  as  I  am.  I  sent  you  from 
Malta  <£110,  and  a  duplicate  in  a  second  letter.  If  you 
have  not  received  it,  the  triplicate  is  either  at  Malta  or  on 
its  way  from  thence.  I  had  sent  another  £100,  but  by 
Elliot's  villainous  treatment  of  me  ^  was  obliged  to  recall 
it.     But  these  are  trifles. 

IMr.  Clarkson  is  come,  and  is  about  to  take  me  down  to 
Parndon  (Mr.  S.'s  country  seat  in  Essex,  about  twenty 

1  An  unpublished  letter  from  Sir  that  Coleridge  ever  said  in  favour  of 

Alexander   Ball  to  His   Excellency  "  Ball  "  exceeds  what  Sir  Alexander 

H.    Elliot,    Esq.    (Minister    at     the  says  of  Coleridge,  but  the  Minister, 

Court   of    Naples),  strongly  recora-  -whose  hands  must  have  been  pretty 

mends   Coleridge  to  his  favourable  full   at   the    time,  failed  to  be  im- 

notice  and  consideration.      Nothing  pressed,  and  withheld  his  patronage. 


1806]  TO  HIS  WIFE  509 

miles  from  town).  I  shall  return  by  Sunday  or  Monday, 
and  my  address,  "  S.  T.  Coleridge,  Esqre,  No.  348  Strand, 
London." 

My  grateful  love  to  Southey,  and  blessing  on  his  little 
one.  And  may  God  Almighty  preserve  you,  my  dear! 
and  your  faithful,  though  long  absent  husband, 

S.   T.    COLEEIDGE. 

CLXII.     TO   THE   SAME. 

[Farmhouse  near  Coleorton,] 
December  25,  1806. 

My  deae  Sara,  —  By  my  letter  from  Derby  you  will 
have  been  satisfied  of  our  safety  so  far.  We  had,  however, 
been  grossly  deceived  as  to  the  equi-distance  of  Derby 
and  Loughborough.  The  expense  was  nearly  double. 
Still,  however,  I  was  in  such  torture  and  my  boils  bled, 
throbbed,  and  stabbed  so  con  furia,  that  perhaps  I  have 
no  reason  for  regret.  At  Coleorton  we  found  them  din- 
ing, Sunday,  ^  past  one  o'clock.  To-day  is  Xmas  day. 
Of  course  we  were  welcomed  with  an  uproar  of  sincere 
joy :  and  Hartley  hung  suspended  between  the  ladies 
for  a  long  minute.  The  children,  too,  jubilated  at  Hart- 
ley's arrival.  He  has  behaved  very  well  indeed  —  only 
that  when  he  could  get  out  of  the  coach  at  dinner,  I  was 
obliged  to  be  in  incessant  watch  to  prevent  him  from 
rambling  off  into  the  fields.  He  twice  ran  into  a  field, 
and  to  the  further  end  of  it,  and  once  after  the  dinner 
was  6n  table,  I  was  out  five  minutes  seeking  him  in  great 
alarm,  and  found  him  at  the  further  end  of  a  wet  meadow, 
on  the  marge  of  a  river.  After  dinner,  fearful  of  losing 
our  places  by  the  window  (of  the  long  coach),  I  ordered 
him  to  go  into  the  coach  and  sit  in  the  place  where  he 
was  before,  and  I  would  follow.  In  about  five  minutes  I 
followed.  No  Hartley  !  Halloing  —  in  vain  !  At  lengih, 
where  should  I  discover  him !  In  the  same  meadow,  only 
at  a  greater  distance,  and  close  down  on  the  very  edge  of 


510  HOME  AND   NO   HOME  [April 

the  water.  I  was  angry  from  downright  fright !  And 
what,  think  yon,  was  Cataphraet's  excuse !  "  It  was  a 
niisundorstanding,  Father !  I  thought,  you  see,  that  you 
Lid  nie  go  to  the  very  same  place,  in  the  meadow  where  I 
was.''  I  tohl  him  that  he  had  interpreted  the  text  by 
the  suggestions  of  the  flesh,  not  the  inspiration  of  the 
spirit ;  and  his  Wish  the  naughty  father  of  the  base- 
born  Thought.  However,  saving  and  excejiting  his  pas- 
sion for  field  truantry,  and  his  hatred  of  confinement  [in 
which  his  fancy  at  least  — 

Doth  sing  a  doleful  song  about  green  fields ; 
How  sweet  it  were  in  woods  and  wild  savannas ; 
To  hunt  for  food  and  be  a  naked  man 
And  wander  up  and  down  at  liberty  !J,^ 

he  is  a  very  good  and  sweet  child,  of  strict  honour  and 
truth,  from  which  he  never  deviates  except  in  the  form  of 
sophism  when  he  sports  his  logical  false  dice  in  the  game 
of  excuses.  This,  however,  is  the  mere  effect  of  his  activ- 
ity of  thought,  and  his  aiming  at  being  clever  and  ingen- 
ious. Pie  is  exceedingly  amiable  toward  children.  All 
here  love  him  most  dearly :  and  your  namesake  takes 
upon  her  all  the  duties  of  his  mother  and  darling  friend, 
with  all  the  mother's  love  and  fondness.  He  is  very  fond 
of  her ;  but  it  is  very  pretty  to  hear  how,  without  any 
one  set  declaration  of  his  attaclunent  to  Mrs.  Wilson  and 
Mr.  Jackson,  his  love  for  them  continually  breaks  out 
—  so  many  things  remind  him  of  them,  and  in  the  coach 
he  talked  to  the  strangers  of  them  just  as  if  everybody 
must  know  Mr.  J.  and  Mrs.  W.  His  letter  is  only  half 
written  ;  so  cannot  go  to-day.  We  all  wish  you  a  merry 
Christmas  and  many  following  ones.  Concerning  the 
London  Lectures,  we  are  to  discuss  it,  William  and  I,  this 
evening,  and  I  shall  write  you  at  full  the  day  after  to- 
morrow. To-morrow  there  is  no  post,  but  this  letter  I 
1  "The  Foster-Mother's  Tale,"  Poetical  Works,  1893, p.  83, 


Hartley  Coleridtre 


1807]  TO   HARTLEY  COLERIDGE  511 

mean  merely  as  bearer  of  the  tidings  of  our  safe  arrival. 
I  am  better  than  usual.  Hartley  has  coughed  a  little 
every  morning  since  he  left  Greta  Hall ;  but  only  such  a 
little  cough  as  you  heard  from  him  at  the  door.  He  is 
in  high  health.  All  the  children  have  the  hooping  cough; 
but  in  an  exceedingly  mild  degree.  Neither  Sarah 
Hutchinson  nor  I  ever  remember  to  have  had  it.  Hart- 
ley is  made  to  keep  at  a  distance  from  them,  and  only  to 
play  with  Johnny  in  the  open  air.  I  found  my  spice- 
megs  ;  but  many  papers  I  miss. 

The  post  boy  waits. 

My  love  to  Mrs.  Lovell,  to  Southey  and  Edith,  and  be- 
lieve me  anxiously  and  for  ever, 

Your  sincere  friend  S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CLXIII.     TO    HARTLEY    COLERIDGE,    ^TAT.    X.^ 

April  3,  1807. 

My  dear  Boy,  —  In  all  human  beings  good  and  bad 
qualities  are  not  only  found  together,  side  by  side,  as  it 
were,  but  they  actually  tend  to  produce  each  other;  at 
least  they  must  be  considered  as  twins  of  a  common 
parent,  and  the  amiable  propensities  too  often  sustain  and 
foster  their  unhandsome  sisters.     (For  the  old  Romans  per- 

^  Hartley  Coleridge,  now   in   his  economy,"  says  Hartley, "  would  not 

eleventh  year,  was  under  his  father's  allow  us   to  visit  the  Jewel  Office, 

sole  care  from  the  end  of  December,  but  Mr.  Scott,  then  no  anactolater, 

1806,  to  May,  1807.     The  first  three  took  an  evident  pride  in  showing  me 

months  were  spent  in  the  farmhouse  the  claymores  and   bucklers   taken 

near  Coleorton,  which  Sir  G.  Beau-  from   the    Loyalists    at   Culloden." 

mont  had  lent  to  the  Wordsworths,  Whilst  he  was  at  Coleorton,  Hartley 

and  it  must  have  been  when  that  was  painted  by  Sir  David  Wilkie. 

visit  was  drawing  to  a  close  that  this  It  is  the  portrait  of  a  child  "  whose 

letter  was  written  for  Hartley's  ben-  fancies  from  afar  are  brought,''  but 

efit.      The    remaining    five    or    six  the  Hartley  of  this  letter  is  better 

weeks  were  passed  in  the  company  represented  by  the  grimacing  boy  in 

of  the  Wordsworths  at  P.asil  Monta-  Wilkie 's  "  Blind  Fiddler,"  for  which, 

gu's  house  in  London.     Then  it  was  I  have  been  told,  he  sat  as  a  model, 

that  Hartley  saw  his  first  play,  and  Poems  of  Hartley    Coleridge,  1851, 

■was  taken  by  Wordsworth  and  Wal-  i.  ccxxii. 
ter  Scott  to  the  Tower.   "  The  bard's 


512  HOME   AND   NO   HOME  [April 

sonified  virtues  and  vices  both  as  women.)  This  is  a  suffi- 
cient i)roof  that  uiere  natural  qualities,  however  pleasing 
and  delightful,  must  not  be  deemed  virtues  until  tliey  are 
broken  in  and  yoked  to  the  plough  of  lieason.  Now  to 
apply  this  to  your  own  ease  —  I  could  equally  apply  it  to 
myself  —  but  you  know  yourself  more  accurately  than 
you  can  know  me,  and  will  therefore  understand  my 
argument  better  when  the  facts  on  which  it  is  built  exist 
in  your  own  consciousness.  You  are  by  natiu-e  very 
kind  and  forgiving,  and  wholly  free  from  revenge  and 
sullenness ;  you  are  likewise  gifted  with  a  very  active  and 
self-gratifying  fancy,  and  such  a  high  tide  and  flood  of 
pleasurable  feelings,  that  all  unpleasant  and  painful 
thoughts  and  events  are  hurried  away  upon  it,  and  neither 
remain  in  the  surface  of  your  memory  nor  sink  to  the  bot- 
tom of  your  heart.  So  far  all  seems  right  and  matter  of 
thanksgiving  to  your  Maker ;  and  so  all  really  is  so,  and 
will  be  so,  if  you  exert  your  reason  and  free  will.  But  on 
the  other  hand  the  very  same  disposition  makes  you  less 
impressible  both  to  the  censure  of  your  anxious  friends 
and  to  the  whispers  of  your  conscience.  Nothing  that 
gives  you  pain  dwells  long  enough  upon  your  mind  to  do 
you  any  good,  just  as  in  some  diseases  the  medicines  pass 
so  quickly  through  the  stomach  and  bowels  as  to  be  able 
to  exert  none  of  their  healing  qualities.  In  like  manner, 
this  power  which  you  possess  of  shoving  aside  all  dis- 
agreeable reflections,  or  losing  them  in  a  labyrinth  of 
day-dreams,  which  saves  you  from  some  present  pain,  has, 
on  the  other  hand,  interwoven  with  your  nature  habits  of 
procrastination,  which,  unless  you  correct  them  in  time 
Tand  it  will  recpiire  all  your  best  exertions  to  do  it  effec- 
tually), must  lead  you  into  lasting  unhappiness. 

You  are  now  going  with  me  (if  God  have  not  ordered 
it  otherwise)  into  Devonshire  to  visit  your  Uncle  G.  Cole- 
ridge. He  is  a  very  good  man  and  very  kind ;  but  his 
notions  of  right  and  of  propriety  are  very  strict,  and  he 


1807]  TO  HARTLEY  COLERIDGE  613 

is,  therefore,  exceedingly  shocked  by  any  gross  deviations 
from  what  is  right  and  proper.  I  take,  therefore,  this 
means  of  warning  you  against  those  bad  habits,  which  I 
and  all  your  friends  here  have  noticed  in  you ;  and,  be 
assured,  I  am  not  writing  in  anger,  but  on  the  contrary 
with  great  love,  and  a  comfortable  hope  that  your  beha- 
viour at  Ottei-y  will  be  such  as  to  do  yourself  and  me  and 
your  dear  mother  credit. 

First,  then,  I  conjure  you  never  to  do  anything  of  any 
kind  when  out  of  sight  which  you  would  not  do  in  my 
presence.  What  is  a  frail  and  faulty  father  on  earth 
compared  with  God,  your  heavenly  Father?  But  God  is 
always  present.  Specially,  never  pick  at  or  snatch  up 
anything,  eatable  or  not.  I  know  it  is  only  an  idle,  fool- 
ish trick ;  but  your  Ottery  relations  would  consider  you 
as  a  little  thief ;  and  in  the  Church  Catechism  piching 
and  stealing  are  both  put  together  as  two  sorts  of  the 
same  vice,  "  And  keep  my  hands  from  picking  and  steal- 
ing." And  besides,  it  is  a  dirty  trick ;  and  people  of 
weak  stomachs  would  turn  sick  at  a  dish  which  a  young 
jiltli-paiv)  had  been  fingering. 

Next,  when  you  have  done  wrong  acknowledge  it  at 
once,  like  a  man.  Excuses  may  show  your  ingenuity,  but 
they  make  your  honesty  suspected.  And  a  grain  of  hon- 
esty is  better  than  a  pound  of  wit.  We  may  admire  a 
man  for  his  cleverness ;  but  we  love  and  esteem  him  only 
for  his  goodness ;  and  a  strict  attachment  to  truth,  and  to 
the  whole  truth,  with  openness  and  frankness  and  sim- 
plicity is  at  once  the  foundation  stone  of  all  goodness,  and 
no  small  part  of  the  superstructure.  Lastly,  do  what  you 
have  to  do  at  once,  and  put  it  out  of  hand.  No  procras- 
tination ;  no  self-delusion ;  no  "  I  am  sure  I  can  say  it,  I 
need  not  learn  it  again,"  etc.,  which  sures  are  such  very 
unsure  folks  that  nine  times  out  of  ten  their  sureships 
break  their  word  and  disappoint  you. 

Among  the  lesser  faults  I  beg  you  to  endeavour  to  re- 


614  HOME   AND  NO   HOME  [Sept. 

member  not  to  stand  between  the  half-opened  door,  either 
while  you  are  speaking,  or  si)oken  to.  But  come  i7i  or  go 
out,  and  always  speak  and  listen  with  the  door  shut. 
Likewise,  not  to  speak  so  loud,  or  abruptly,  and  never  to 
interi'ui)t  your  elders  while  they  are  speaking,  and  not  to 
talk  at  all  during  meals.  I  pray  you,  keep  tliis  letter,  and 
read  it  over  every  two  or  three  days. 

Take  but  a  little  trouble  with  yourself,  and  every  one 
wiU  be  delighted  with  you,  and  try  to  gratify  you  in  all 
your  reasonable  wishes.  And,  above  all,  you  will  be  at 
peace  with  yourself,  and  a  double  blessing  to  me,  who  am, 
my  dear,  my  very  dear  Hartley,  most  anxiously,  your 
fond  father, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

P.  S.  I  have  not  spoken  about  your  mad  passions  and 
frantic  looks  and  pout-mouthing ;  because  I  trust  that  is 

all  over. 
Hartley  Coleridge,  Coleorton,  Leicestershire. 

CLXIV.    TO    SIR   H.  DAVY. 

September  11,  1807. 

.  .  .  Yet  how  very  few  are  there  whom  I  esteem  and 
(pardon  me  for  this  seeming  deviation  from  the  language 
of  friendship)  admire  equally  with  yourself.  It  is  indeed, 
and  has  long  been,  my  settled  persuasion,  that  of  all  men 
known  to  me  I  could  not  justly  equal  any  one  to  you, 
combining  in  one  view  powers  of  intellect,  and  the  steady 
moral  exertion  of  them  to  the  production  of  direct  and 
indirect  good ;  and  if  I  give  you  pain,  my  heart  bears  wit- 
ness that  I  inflicted  a  gTeater  on  myself,  —  nor  should 
I  have  written  such  words,  if  the  chief  feeling  that  mixed 
with  and  followed  them  had  not  been  that  of  shame  and 
self-reproach,  for  having  profited  neither  by  your  general 
example  nor  your  frequent  and  immediate  incentives. 
Neither  would  I  have  oppressed  you  at  all  with  this  mel- 


1807]  TO   SIR  H.   DAVY  515 

ancholy  statement,  but  that  for  some  days  past  I  have 
found  myself  so  much  better  in  body  and  mind,  as  to  cheer 
me  at  times  with  the  thought  that  this  most  morbid  and 
oppressive  weight  is  gradually  lifting  up,  and  my  will 
acquiring  some  degree  of  strength  and  power  of  reaction. 

I  have,  however,  received  such  manifest  benefit  from 
horse  exercise,  and  gradual  abandonment  of  fermented 
and  total  abstinence  from  spirituous  liquors,  and  by  being 
alone  with  Poole,  and  the  renewal  of  old  times,  by  wan- 
dering about  among  my  dear  old  walks  of  Quantock  and 
Alfoxden,  that  I  have  seriously  set  about  composition, 
with  a  view  to  ascertain  whether  I  can  conscientiously 
undertake  what  I  so  very  much  wish,  a  series  of  Lectures 
at  the  Royal  Institution.  I  trust  I  need  not  assure  you 
how  much  I  feel  your  kindness,  and  let  me  add,  that  I 
consider  the  application  as  an  act  of  great  and  unmerited 
condescension  on  the  part  of  the  managers  as  may  have 
consented  to  it.  After  having  discussed  the  subject  with 
Poole,  he  entirely  agrees  with  me,  that  the  former  plan 
suggested  by  me  is  invidious  in  itself,  unless  I  disguised 
my  real  opinions  ;  as  far  as  I  should  deliver  my  sentiments 
respecting  the  arts^  [it]  woidd  require  references  and  illus- 
trations not  suitable  to  a  public  lecture  room  ;  and,  finally, 
that  I  ought  bot  to  reckon  upon  spirits  enough  to  seek 
about  for  books  of  Italian  prints,  etc.  And  that,  after  all, 
the  general  and  most  philosophical  principles,  I  might 
naturally  introduce  into  lectures  on  a  more  confined  plan  — 
namely,  the  principles  of  poetry,  conveyed  and  illustrated 
in  a  series  of  lectures.  1.  On  the  genius  and  writings  of 
Shakespeare,  relatively  to  his  predecessors  and  contempo- 
raries, so  as  to  determine  not  only  his  merits  and  defects, 
and  the  proportion  that  each  must  bear  to  the  whole,  but 
what  of  his  merits  and  defects  belong  to  his  age,  as  being 
found  in  contemporaries  of  genius,  and  what  belonged  to 
himself.     2.  On  Spenser,  including  the  metrical  romances, 


616  HOME  AND  NO  HOME  [Sept. 

and  Chaucer,  thouf^li  the  character  of  the  latter  as  a 
mauner-painter  I  shall  have  so  far  anticipated  in  distin- 
guishing; it  froui,  and  comparing  it  with,  Shakespeare. 
3.  Milton.  4.  Dry  den  and  Po})e,  including  the  origin 
and  after  history  of  poetry  of  witty  logic.  5.  On  Modern 
Poetry  and  its  characteristics,  with  no  introduction  of 
any  particular  names.  In  the  course  of  these  I  shall  have 
said  all  I  know,  the  whole  result  of  many  years'  continued 
reflection  on  the  subjects  of  taste,  imagination,  fancy,  pas- 
sion, the  source  of  our  pleasures  in  the  fine  arts,  in  the 
antithetical  balance-loving  nature  of  man,  and  the  con- 
nexion of  such  pleasures  with  moral  excellence.  The  ad- 
vantage of  this  plan  to  myself  is,  that  I  have  all  my 
materials  ready,  and  can  rapidly  reduce  them  into  form 
(for  this  is  my  solemn  determination,  not  to  give  a  single 
lecture  till  I  have  in  fair  writing  at  least  one  half  of  the 
whole  course),  for  as  to  trusting  anything  to  immediate 
effort,  I  shrink  from  it  as  from  guilt,  and  guilt  in  me  it 
would  be.  In  short,  I  should  have  no  objection  at  once  to 
pledge  myself  to  the  immediate  preparation  of  these  lec- 
tures, but  that  I  am  so  surrounded  by  embarrassments.  .  .  . 
For  God's  sake  enter  into  my  true  motive  for  this  wear- 
ing detail ;  it  would  torture  me  if  it  had  any  other  effect 
than  to  impress  on  you  my  desire  and  hope  to  accord  with 
your  plan,  and  my  incapability  of  making  any  final  prom- 
ise till  the  end  of  this  month. 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 


CHAPTER   IX 
A  PUBLIC  LECTURER 

1807-1808 


CHAPTER  IX 

PUBLIC   LECTURER 

1807-1808 

CLXV.    TO   THE   MORGAN   FAMILY. 

Hatchett's  Hotel,  Piccadilly,  Monday  evening', 
[November  23,  1807.] 

My  dear  Friends, — I  arrived  here  in  safety  this  morn- 
ing between  seven  and  eight,  coaeh-stimned,  and  with  a 
cold  in  my  head  ;  but  I  had  dozed  away  the  whole  night 
with  fewer  disturbances  than  I  had  reason  to  expect,  in 
that  sort  of  ivhethei'-you-unll-or-no  slumber  brought  upon 
me  by  the  movements  of  the  vehicle,  which  I  attribute  to 
the  easiness  of  the  mail.  About  one  o'clock  I  moaned 
and  started,  and  then  took  a  wing  of  the  fowl  and  the 
rum,  and  it  operated  as  a  preventive  for  the  after  time. 
If  very,  very  affectionate  thoughts,  ^vishes,  recollections, 
anticipations,  can  score  instead  of  grace  before  and  after 
meat,  mine  was  a  very  religious  meal,  for  in  this  sense 
my  inmost  heatt  prayed  hefore.,  after^  and  durmg.  After 
breakfast,  on  attempting  to  clean  and  dress  myself  from 
cro^vn  to  sole,  I  found  myself  quite  unfit  for  a??//thing, 
and  my  legs  were  painful,  or  rather  my  feet,  and  nothing 
but  an  horizontal  position  woidd  remove  the  feeling.  So 
I  got  into  bed,  and  did  not  get  up  again  till  Mr.  Stuart 
called  at  my  chamber,  past  three.  I  have  seen  no  one 
else,  and  therefore  must  defer  all  intelligence  concerning 
my  lectures,  etc.,  to  a  second  letter,  which  you  will  receive 
in  a  few  days,  God  willing,  with  the  D'Espriella,  etc. 
When  I  was  leaving  you,  one  of  the  little  alleviations 


520  A   rUBLlC   LECTURER  [Dec. 

wliicli  I  looked  forward  to,  was  that  I  could  write  with  less 
emharrassinent  than  I  could  utter  in  your  presence  the 
many  feelings  of  grateful  affection  and  most  affectionate 
esteem  toward  you,  that  pressed  upon  my  heart  almost,  as 
at  times  it  seemed,  with  a  bodily  weight.  But  I  suppose 
it  is  yet  too  short  a  time  since  I  left  you  —  you  are 
scarcely  out  of  my  eyes  yet,  dear  Mrs.  M.  and  Charlotte ! 
To-morrow  I  shall  go  about  the  portraits.  I  have  not 
looked  at  the  lirofile  since,  nor  shall  I  till  it  is  framed. 
An  absence  of  four  or  five  days  will  be  a  better  test  how 
far  it  is  a  likeness.  For  a  day  or  two,  farewell,  my 
dear  friends !  I  bless  you  all  thi-ee  fervently,  and  shall, 
I  trust,  as  long  as  I  am 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

I  shall  take  up  my  lodgings  at  the  "  Courier "  office, 

where  there  is  a  nice  suite  of  rooms  for  me  and  a  quiet 

bedroom  without  expense.    My  address  therefore,  ^^  Squire 

Coleridge,"  or  "  S.  T.  Coleridge,  Esq :  '  Courier '  Office, 

Strand,"  —  unless  you  are  in  a  sensible  mood,  and  then 

you  will  wTite  3Ir.  Coleridge,  if  it  were  only  in  comj)as- 

sion  to  that  poor,  unfortunate  exile,  from  the  covers  of 

letters  at  least,  despised  Jlli. 

Mr.  Jno.  Jas.  Morgan, 

St.  James's  Square,  Bristol. 

CLXVI.  TO  ROBERT  SOUTHET. 

[Postmark,  December  14,  1807.] 

My  dear  Southey,  —  I  have  been  confined  to  my 
bedroom,  and,  with  exceptions  of  a  few  hours  each  night, 
to  my  bed  for  near  a  w^eek  past  —  having  once  ventured 
out,  and  suffered  in  consequence.  My  complaint  a  low 
bilious  fever.  Whether  contagion  or  sympathy,  I  know 
not,  but  I  had  it  hanging  about  me  from  the  time  I  was 
with  Davy.  It  went  off,  however,  by  a  journey  which  I 
took  with  Stuart,  to  Bristol,  in  a  cold  frosty  air.     Soon 


1807]  TO   ROBERT  SOUTHEY  521 

after  my  return  Mr.  Riclout  informed  me  from  Drs. 
Babbington  and  Bailly,  that  Davy  was  not  only  ill,  but 
his  life  precarious,  his  recovery  doubtful.  And  to  this 
day  no  distinct  symptom  of  safety  has  appeared,  though 
to-day  he  is  better.  I  cannot  express  what  I  have  suf- 
fered. Good  heaven !  in  the  very  springtide  of  his 
honom-  —  his  ?  his  country's  !  the  world's  !  after  discov- 
eries more  intellectual,  more  ennobling,  and  inipowering 
human  nature  than  Newton's  !  But  he  must  not  die  !  I 
am  so  much  better  that  I  shall  go  out  to-morrow,  if  I  awake 
no  worse  than  I  go  to  sleep.  Be  so  good  as  to  tell  Mrs. 
Coleridge  that  I  will  write  to  her  either  Tuesday  or 
Wednesday,  and  to  Hartley  and  Derwent,  ^vith  whose 
letters  I  was  much  both  amused  and  affected.  I  was  with 
Hartley  and  Mrs.  Wilson  and  Mr.  Jackson  in  spirit  at 
their  meeting.  Howel's  bill  I  have  paid,  tell  Mrs.  C.  (for 
this  is  what  she  wiU  be  most  anxious  about),  and  that  I 
had  no  other  debt  at  all  weighing  upon  me,  either  pruden- 
tially  or  from  sense  of  propriety  or  delicacy,  till  the  one 
I  shall  mention,  after  better  subjects,  in  the  tail  of  this 
letter. 

I  very  thoroughly  admired  your  letter  to  W.  Scott,^ 
concerning  the  "  Edinburgh  Review."  The  feeling  and 
the  resolve  are  what  any  one  knowing  you  half  as  weU  as 
I  must  have  anticipated,  in  any  case  where  you  had  room 
for  ten  minutes,  thinking,  and  relatively  to  any  person, 
with  regard  to  whom  old  affection  and  belief  of  injury 
and  unworthy  conduct  had  made  none  of  those  mixtures, 
which  people  the  brains  of  the  best  men  —  none  but 
good  men  having  the  component  drugs,  or  at  least  the 

^  Scott  had  proposed  to  Southey  "  that    sort   of    bitterness  [in   criti- 

that  he  should  use  his  influence  with  cisra]  which  tends  directly  to  wound 

Jeffrey  to  get  him    placed   on   the  a  man  in  his  feelings,  and  injure  him 

staff    of    the     Edinburijh      Review,  in  his  fame  and  fortune."     Life  and 

Southey  declined  the  offer  alike  on  Correspondence,    iii.  124-128.      See, 

the    score    of    political    divergence  too,    Lockhart's  Life  of  Sir  ]Valter 

from  the  editor,  and  disapproval    of  Scott,  1837,  ii.  130. 


522  A  PUBLIC   LECTURER  [Dec. 

clni<;s  in  that  state  of  composition  —  hut  it  is  admirably 
expressed  —  if  I  liad  meant  only  tcdl  expressed,  I  should 
have  said,  '*  and  it  is  well  expressed,"  —  but,  to  my  feeling, 
it  is  an  unusual  s^jeeimen  of  honourable  feeling  supporting 
itself  by  sDund  sense  and  conveyed  with  simplicity,  dig- 
nity, anil  a  warmth  evidently  under  the  complete  control 
of  the  understanding.  I  am  a  fair  judge  as  to  such  a 
sentence,  for  from  morbid  wretchedness  of  mind  I  have 
been  in  a  far,  far  greater  excess,  indifferent  about  what 
is  said,  or  written,  or  supposed,  concerning  me  or  my 
compositions,  than  W.  can  have  been  ever  sujjposed  to  be 
interested  respecting  his — and  the  "Edinburgh  Review" 
I  have  not  seen  for  years,  and  never  more  than  four  or 
five  numbers.  As  to  reviewing  W.'s  poems,  my  sole  ob- 
jection would  rest  on  the  t'wie  of  the  publication  of  the 
"  Annual  Review."  Davy's  illness  has  put  off  the  com- 
mencement of  my  Lectures  to  the  middle  of  January. 
They  are  to  consist  of  at  least  twenty  lectures,  and  the 
subject  of  modern  poetry  occupies  at  least  three  or  four. 
Now  I  do  not  care  in  how  many  forms  my  sentiments  are 
printed  :  if  only  I  do  not  defraud  my  hirers,  by  causing 
my  lectures  to  be  anticipated.  I  would  not  review  them 
at  all,  unless  I  can  do  it  systematically,  and  with  the 
whole  sti-ength  of  my  mind.  And,  when  I  do,  I  shall 
express  my  convictions  of  the  faults  and  defects  of  the 
poems  and  system,  as  plainly  as  of  the  excellencies.  It 
has  been  my  constant  reply  to  those  who  have  charged 
me  with  bigotry,  etc.,  — "  While  you  can  perceive  no 
excellencies,  it  is  my  duty  to  appear  conscious  of  no  de- 
fects, because,  even  though  I  should  agree  with  you  in 
the  instances,  I  should  only  confirm  you  in  what  I  deem  a 
pernicious  error,  as  our  principle  of  disapprobation  must 
necessarily  be  different."  In  my  Lectures  I  shall  speak 
out,  of  Rogers,  Campbell,  yourself  (that  is  "  Madoc  "  and 
"  Thalaba ;  "  for  I  shall  speak  only  of  iwems^  not  of 
poets),  and  Wordsworth,  as  plainly  as  of  Milton,  Dry  den, 


1807]  TO   ROBERT  SOUTHEY  623 

Pope,  etc.  ...  I  did  not  overliugely  admire  the  "  Lay  of 
the  Last  Minstrel,"  but  saw  no  likeness  whatever  to  the 
"  Christabel,"  much  less  any  improper  resemblance. 

I  heard  by  accident  that  Dr.  Stoddart  had  arrived  a 
few  days  ago,  and  wrote  him  a  letter  expostulating  with 
him  for  his  unkindness  in  having  detained  for  years  my 
books  and  MSS.,  and  stating  the  great  loss  it  had  been  to 
me  (a  loss  not  easy  to  be  calculated.  I  have  as  witnesses 
T.  Poole  and  Squire  Acland  ^  (who  calls  me  infallible 
Prophet),  that  from  the  information  contained  in  them, 
though  I  could  not  dare  trust  my  recollection  sufficiently 
for  the  proofs,  I  foretold  distinctly  every  event  that  has 
happened  of  importance,  with  one  which  has  not  yet 
happened,  the  evacuation  of  Sicily).  This,  however,  of 
coiu'se,  I  did  not  write  to  Dr.  S.,  but  simply  requested  he 
would  send  me  my  chests.  In  return  I  received  yesterday 
an  abusive  letter  confirming  what  I  suspected,  that  he  is 
writing  a  book  himself.  In  this  he  conjures  up  an  in- 
definite debt,  customs,  and  some  old  affair  before  I  went 
to  Malta,  amounting  to  more  than  fifty  pounds  (the  cus- 
toms twenty-five  pounds,  all  of  which  I  should  have  had 
remitted,  if  he  had  sent  them  according  to  his  promise), 
and  informing  me  that  when  I  send  a  person  properly 
documented  to  settle  this  account,  that  person  may  then 
take  away  my  goods.  This  I  shall  do  to-morrow,  though 
without  the  least  pledge  that  I  shall  receive  all  that  I 
left.  .  .  .  This  wiU  prevent  my  sending  Mrs.  C.  any 
money  for  three  weeks,  I  mean  exclusive  of  the  [an- 
nuity of]  <£150  which,  assure  her,  is,  and  for  the  future 
will  remain,  sacred  to  her.  By  Wallis'  attitude  to  Allston 
I  lost  thirty  pounds  in  customs,  by  my  brother's  refusal  ^ 

^  Sir  John  Acland.    The  property  at   Ottery   .is    had   been  orig-inally 

is  now  in   the  possession   of   a  de-  proposed.     Georg-e  Coleridg-e  disap- 

scendant    in    the    female    line,    Sir  proved    of    liis    brother's    intended 

Alexander  Hood,  of  Fairfield,  Dod-  separation   from   his  wife,  and   de- 

ington.  clined  to  countenance  it  in  any  way 

'^  To  receive  him  and  his  family  whatever. 


524  A  PUBLIC   LECTURER  [Jan. 

all  tlie  exponsos  up  ami  down  of  my  family.     So  it  has 
been  a  bacUlish  year ;  but  I  am  not  disquieted. 

S.  T.  C. 

Poor  Godwin  is  going  to  the  dogs.  He  has  a  tragedy  ^ 
to  come  out  on  Wednesday.  I  will  write  again  to  you  in 
a  few  days.  After  my  Lectures  I  woiUd  willingly  under- 
take any  Review  with  you,  because  I  shall  then  have 
given  my  Code.  I  omit  other  parts  of  your  letter,  not 
that  they  interested  me  less,  but  because  I  have  no  room, 
and  am  too  much  exhausted  to  take  uj3  a  second  sheet. 
God  bless  you.  My  kisses  to  your  little  ones,  and  love  to 
your  wife.  The  only  vindictive  idea  I  have  to  Dr.  S.  is 
the  anticipation  of  showing  his  letter  to  Sir  Alexander 
Ball  I !  The  folly  of  sinning  against  our  first  and  pure 
impressions !  It  is  the  sin  against  our  own  ghost  at 
least  I 

CLXVII.    TO   MRS.    MORGAN. 

348,  Strand,  Friday  moriung,  January  25,  1808. 

Dear  and  honoured  Mary,  —  Having  had  you  con- 
tinually, I  may  almost  say,  present  to  me  in  my  dreams, 
and  always  appearing  as  a  compassionate  comforter 
therein,  appearing  in  shape  as  your  own  dear  self,  most 
innocent  and  full  of  love,  I  feel  a  strong  impulse  to 
address  a  letter  to  you  by  name,  though  it  equally  respects 
all  my  three  friends.  If  it  had  been  told  me  on  that 
evening  when  dear  Morgan  was  asleep  in  the  parlour, 
and  you  and  beloved  Caroletta  asleep  at  opposite  corners 
of  the  sopha  in  the  drawing-room,  of  which  I  occupied 
the  centre  in  a  state  of  blessed  half-unconsciousness  as  a 
drowsy  guardian  of  your  slumbers  ;  if  it  had  been  then 
told  me  that  in  less  than  a  fortnight  the  time  should  come 
when  I  should  not  wish  to  be  with  you,  or  wish  you  to  be 
with  me,  I  should  have  out  with  one  of  Caroletta's  harm- 

1  Faulkner:  a  Tragedy,  1807-1808,  8vo. 


1808]  TO  MRS.  MORGAN  525 

less  "  condemn  its  "  (commonly  pronounced  "  da7n7i  it  "), 
"  that 's  no  truth  !  "  And  yet  since  on  Friday  evening, 
my  lecture  having  made  an  impression  far  beyond  its  worth 
or  my  expectation,  I  have  been  in  such  a  state  of  wretch- 
edness, confined  to  my  bed,  in  such  almost  continued  pain 
.  .  ,  that  I  have  been  content  to  see  no  one  but  the  un- 
lovable old  woman,  as  feeling  that  I  should  only  receive 
a  momently  succession  of  pangs  from  the  presence  of 
those  who,  giving  no  pleasure,  would  make  my  wretched- 
ness appear  almost  unnatural,  even  as  if  the  fire  should 
cease  to  be  warm.  Who  would  not  rather  shiver  on  an 
ice  moimt  than  freeze  before  the  fire  which  had  used  to 
spread  comfort  through  his  fibres  and  thoughts  of  social 
joy  through  his  imagination?  Yet  even  this,  yet  even 
from  thi&  feeling  that  your  society  would  be  an  agony, 
oh  I  know,  I  feel  how  I  love  you,  my  dear  sisters  and 
friends. 

I  have  been  obliged,  of  course,  to  put  off  my  lecture  of 
to-day;  a  most  painfid  necessity,  for  I  disappoint  some 
hundreds !  I  have  sent  for  Abernethy,  who  has  restored 
Mr.  De  Quincey  to  health !  Could  I  have  foreseen  my 
present  state  I  would  have  stayed  at  Bristol  and  taken 
lodgings  at  Clifton  in  order  to  be  within  the  power  of 
being  seen  by  you,  without  being  a  domestic  nuisance,  for 
still,  still  I  feel  the  comfortlessness  of  seeing  no  face, 
hearing  no  voice,  feeling  no  hand  that  is  dear,  though 
conscious  that  the  pang  would  oiitweigh  the  solace. 

When  finished,  let  the  two  dresses,  etc.,  be  sent  to  me  ; 
but  if  my  illness  should  have  a  completed  conclusion,  of 
me  as  well  as  of  itself,  and  there  seems  to  be  a  distinct 
inflammation  of  the  mesentery,  —  then  let  them  be  sent 
to  Grasmere  for  Mrs.  Wordsworth  and  Miss  Hutchinson, 
—  gay  dresses,  indeed,  for  a  mourning. 

I  write  in  great  pain,  but  yet  I  deem,  whatever  become 
of  me,  that  it  will  hereafter  be  a  soothing  thought  to  you 
that  in  sickness  or  in  health,  in  hope  or  in  despondency, 


526  A  PUBLIC  LECTURER  [May 

T  have  thought  of  j'ou  with   love  and  esteem  and  grati- 
tude. 

My  dear  Mary  I  dear  Charlotte  I  May  Heaven  bless 
you!  AVith  such  a  wife  and  such  a  sister,  my  friend  is 
already  blest !  INIay  Heaven  give  him  health  and  elastic 
spirits  to  enjoy  these  and  all  other  blessings  !  Once  more 
bless  you,  bless  you.     Ah  I  who  is  there  to  bless 

S.  T.  Coleridge? 

P.  S.  Sunday  Night.  I  do  not  know  when  this  letter 
was  written — jirobably  Thursihnj  morning,  not  Wednes- 
day, as  I  have  said  in  my  letter  to  John.  I  have  opened 
this  by  means  of  the  steam  of  a  tea-kettle,  merely  to  say 
that  I  have,  I  know  not  how  or  where,  lost  the  pretty  shirt- 
pin  Charlotte  gave  me.  I  promise  her  solemnly  never  to 
accept  one  from  any  other,  and  never  to  wear  one  here- 
after as  long  as  I  live,  so  that  the  sense  of  its  real  absence 
shall  make  a  sort  of  imaginary  presence  to  me.  I  am 
more  vexed  at  the  accident  than  I  ought  to  be ;  but  had 
it  been  either  of  jonv  locks  of  hair  or  her  profile  (which 
must  be  by  force  and  association  yoiir  profile  too,  and  a 
far  more  efficacious  one  than  that  done  for  you,  which 
had  no  other  merit  than  that  of  having  no  likeness  at  all, 
and  this  certainly  is  a  sort  of  negative  advantage)  I 
should  have  fretted  myself  into  superstition  and  been 
haunted  with  it  as  by  an  omen.  Of  the  lady  and  her 
poetical  daughter  I  had  never  before  heard  even  the 
name.  Oh  these  are  shadows !  and  all  my  literary  admirers 
and  flatterers,  as  well  as  despisers  and  calumniators, 
pass  over  my  heart  as  the  images  of  clouds  over  didl  sea. 
So  far  from  being  retained,  they  are  scarcely  made  visible 
there.  But  I  love  you,  dear  ladies !  substantially,  and 
pray  do  write  at  least  a  line  in  Morgan's  letter,  if  neither 
will  write  me  a  whole  one,  to  comfort  me  by  the  assurance 
that  you  remember  me  with  esteem  and  some  affection. 
Most  affectionately  have  you  and  Charlotte  treated  me, 


1808]  TO  FRANCIS  JEFFREY  527 

and  most  gratefully  do  I  remember  it.     Good-night,  good- 
night ! 

To  be  read  after  the  other. 

Mrs.  Morgan, 

St.  James's  Square,  Bristol. 

CLXVIII.    TO   FRANCIS   JEFFREY. 

348  Strand,  May  23,  1808. 
Dear  Sir,  —  Without  knowing  me  you  have  been, 
perhaps  rather  unwarrantably,  severe  on  my  morals  and 
understanding,  inasmuch  as  you  have,  I  understand,  —  for 
I  have  not  seen  the  Reviews,  —  frequently  introduced  my 
name  when  I  had  never  brought  any  publication  within 
your  court.  With  one  slight  exception,  a  shilling  pamphlet  ^ 
that  never  obtained  the  least  notice,  I  have  not  j^ublished 
anything  with  my  name,  or  known  to  be  mine,  for  thir- 
teen years.  Surely  I  might  quote  against  you  the  com- 
plaint of  Job  as  to  those  who  brought  against  him  "  the 
iniquities  of  his  youth."  What  harm  have  I  .ever  done 
you,  dear  sir,  by  act  or  word?  If  you  knew  me,  you 
would  yourself  smile  at  some  of  the  charges,  which,  I  am 
told,  you  have  fastened  on  me.  Most  assuredly,  you  have 
mistaken  my  sentiments,  alike  in  moralit}^  politics,  and 
—  what  is  called  —  metaphysics,  and,  I  would  fain  hope, 
that  if  you  knew  me,  you  would  not  have  ascribed  self- 
opinion  and  arrogance  to  me.  But,  be  this  as  it  may,  I 
write  to  you  now  merely  to  intreat  —  for  the  sake  of  man- 
kind —  an  honourable  review  of  Mr.  Clarkson's  "  History 
of  the  Abolition  of  the  Slave  Trade."  ^  I  know  the  man, 
and  if  you  knew  him  you,  I  am  sure,  would  revere  him, 
and  your  reverence  of  him,  as  an  agent,  would  almost 

^  I  presume  that  the  reference  is  burgh  Review,  July,    1808.      It  has 

to  the  Condones  ad  Populum,  pub-  never  been  reprinted.   Samuel  Taylor 

lished  at  Bristol,  November  If),  17!'5.  Coleridge,    by   J.   Dykes    Campbell. 

"  Coleridge's  article  on  Clarkson's  London,  1894,  p.  1(58  ;  Letters  from 
History  of  the  Abolition  of  the  Slave  the  Lake  Poets,  p.  180;  Allsop's  Let- 
Trade  was  published  in  the  Edin-  ters,  183G,  ii.  112. 


528  A  PUBLIC   LECTURER  [July 

sui>orsetlc  all  jiulgnient  of  him  as  a  mere  literary  man. 
It  would  1)0  prosuinptuous  in  me  to  offer  to  write  the 
review  of  his  work.  Yet  I  should  be  glad  were  I  per- 
mitted to  suhuiit  to  yon  the  many  thonghts  which  occurred 
to  me  iluring  its  perusal.  Be  assnred,  that  with  the  great- 
est respect  for  your  talents  —  as  far  as  I  can  judge  of 
them  from  the  few  nnmbers  of  the  "  Edinburgh  Review  " 
which  I  have  had  the  opportunity  of  reading  —  and  every 
kind  thought  respecting  your  motives, 

I  am,  dear  sir,  your  ob.  humb.  ser't, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

Jkffray  (sic),  Esq., 

to  the  care  of  Mr.  Constable,  Bookseller, 

Ediugburgh  (sic). 

CLXIX.    TO   THE   SAME. 

[Postmark]  Bury  St.  Edmunds, 
July  20,  1808. 

Dear  Sir,  —  Not  having  been  gratified  by  a  letter 
from  you,  I  have  feared  that  the  freedom  with  which  I 
opened  out  my  opinions  may  have  given  you  offence.  Be 
assured,  it  was  most  alien  from  my  intention.  The  pur- 
port of  what  I  wrote  was  simply  this  —  that  severe  and 
long-continued  bodily  disease  exacerbated  by  disappoint- 
ment in  the  great  hope  of  my  Life  had  rendered  me 
insensible  to  blame  and  praise,  even  to  a  faulty  degree, 
unless  they  proceeded  from  the  one  or  two  who  love  me. 
The  entrance-passage  to  my  heart  is  choked  up  with 
heavy  lumber,  and  I  am  thus  barricadoed  against  attacks, 
which,  doubtless,  I  should  otherwise  have  felt  as  keenly 
as  most  men.  Instead  of  censuring  a  certain  quantum  of 
irritability  respecting  the  reception  of  published  composi- 
tion, I  rather  envy  it  —  it  becomes  ludicrous  then  only, 
when  it  is  disavowed,  and  the  opposite  temper  pretended 
to.  The  ass's  skin  is  almost  scourge-proof  —  while  the 
elephant  thrills  under  the  movements  of  every  fly  that 
runs  over  it.     But  though  notoriously  almost  a  zealot  in 


1808]  TO  FRANCIS  JEFFREY  529 

behalf  of  my  friend's  poetic  reputation,  yet  I  can  leave  it 
with  cheerful  confidence  to  the  fair  working  of  his  own 
powers.  I  have  known  many,  very  many  instances  of 
contempt  changed  into  admiration  of  his  genius ;  but  I 
neither  know  nor  have  heard  of  a  single  person,  who  hav- 
ing been  or  having  become  his  admirer  had  ceased  to  be 
so.  For  it  is  honourable  to  us  all  that  our  kind  affections, 
the  attractions  and  elective  affinities  of  our  nature,  are  of 
more  permanent  agency  than  those  passions  which  repel 
and  dissever.  From  tliis  cause  we  may  explain  the  final 
growth  of  honest  fame,  and  its  tenacity  of  life.  When- 
ever the  struggle  of  controversy  ceases,  we  think  no  more 
of  works  which  give  us  no  pleasure  and  apply  our  satire 
and  scorn  to  some  new  object,  and  thus  the  field  is  left 
entire  to  friends  and  partisans. 

But  the  case  of  Mr.  Clarkson  appeared  to  me  altogether 
different.  I  do  not  hold  his  fame  dear  because  he  is  my 
friend ;  but  I  sought  and  cultivated  his  acquaintance,  be- 
cause a  long  and  sober  enquiry  had  assured  me,  that  he 
had  been,  in  an  aweful  sense  of  the  word,  a  benefactor  of 
mankind :  and  this  from  the  purest  motives  unalloyed  by 
the  fears  and  hopes  of  selfish  superstition  —  and  not  with 
that  feverish  power  which  fanatics  acquire  by  crowding 
together,  but  in  the  native  strength  of  his  own  moral  im- 
pulses. He,  if  ever  human  being  did  it,  listened  exclu- 
sively to  his  conscience,  and  obeyed  its  voice  at  the  price 
of  all  his  youth  and  manhood,  at  the  price  of  his  health, 
his  private  fortune,  and  the  fairest  prospects  of  honourable 
ambition.  Such  a  man  I  cannot  regard  as  a  mere  author. 
I  cannot  read  or  criticise  such  a  work  as  a  mere  literary 
production..  The  opinions  publicly  expressed  and  circu- 
lated concerning  it  must  of  necessity  in  the  author's  feel- 
ings be  entwined  with  the  cause  itself,  and  with  his  own 
character  as  a  man,  to  which  that  of  the  historian  is  only 
an  accidental  accession.  Were  it  the  pride  of  authorship 
alone  that  was  in  danger  of  being  fretted,  I  should  have 


530  A  rUBLIC  LECTURER  [July 

remaiueil  as  passive  in  this  instance  as  in  that  of  my 
most  i)aitic'ular  friend,  to  whom  I  am  bound  by  ties  more 
close  and  oi  louiier  standin2^  than  those  which  connect  me 
personally  with  Mr.  Clarkson,  But  I  know  that  any  sar- 
casms or  ridicule  would  deeply  wound  his  feelings,  as  a 
veteran  warrior  in  a  noble  contest,  feelings  that  claim  the 
reverence  of  all  good  men. 

The  Review  was  sent,  addressed  to  you,  by  the  post  of 
yester-evening.  There  is  not  a  sentence,  not  a  word  in  it, 
which  I  should  not  have  written,  had  I  never  seen  the 
author. 

I  am  myself  about  to  bring  out  two  works  —  one  a 
small  pamphlet  ^  —  the  second  of  considerable  size  —  it  is 
a  rifacciamento,  a  very  free  translation  with  large  addi- 
tions, etc.,  etc.,  of  the  masterly  work  for  which  poor  Palm 
was  murdered. 

I  hope  to  be  in  the  North,  at  Keswick,  in  the  course  of 
a  week  or  eight  days.  I  shall  be  happy  to  hear  from  you 
on  this  or  any  other  occasion. 

Yours,  dear  sir,  sincerely,  S.  T.  Coleridge. 

1  Of  this  pamphlet  or  the  transla-  g-ust  2G,  1800,  in  consequence  of  the 

tion  of  Palm's  Dimtschland  in  seiner  publication  of   the  work,  which  re- 

tie/stenErmedriyiing,lknov,' iwth'mg.  fleeted  unfavorably  on  the  conduct 

The  author,  John   Philip   Palm,   a  and  career  of  Napoleon. 
Nuremberg  bookseller,  was  shot  Au- 


CHAPTER   X 
GRASMERE  AND  THE  FRIEND 

1808-1810 


CHAPTER  X 

GEASMEEE  AND  THE  FRIEND 
1808-1810 

CLXX.    TO   DANIEL    STUART. 

[December  9,  1808,] 

My  DEAR  Stuart,  —  Scarcely  when  listening  to  count 
the  hour,  have  I  been  more  perplexed  by  the  '■'-Inopem  me 
copia  fecit "  of  the  London  church  clocks,  than  by  the 
press  of  what  I  have  to  say  to  you.  I  must  do  one  at  a 
time.  Briefly,  a  very  happy  change  ^  has  taken  place  in 
my  health  and  spirits  and  mental  activity  since  I  jilaced 
myself  under  the  care  and  inspection  of  a  physician,  and 
I  dare  say  with  confident  hope,  "Judge  me  from  the  1st 
January,  1809." 

I  send  you  the  Prospectus,  and  intreat  you  to  do  me 
all  the  good  you  can ;  which  like  the  Lord's  Prayer  is 
Thanksgiving  in  the  disguise  of  petition.  If  you  think 
that  it  should  be  advertized  in  any  way,  or  if  Mr.  Street 
can  do  anything » for  me  —  but  I  know  you  will  do  what 
you  can. 

I  have  received  promises  of  contribution  from  many 
tall  fellows  with  big  names  in  the  world  of  Scribes,  and 
coimt  even  Pharisees  (two  or  three  Bishops)  in  my  list  of 
patrons.  But  whether  I  shall  have  50,  100,  600,  or  1,000 
subscribers  I  am  not  able  even  to  conjecture.     All  must 

^  Compare    his    letter   to    Poole,  1808,  in  which  he  speaks  of  a  change 

dated    December   4,  1808.     "  Begin  for  the  better  in  health  and  habits, 

to   count   my   life,   as   a   friend   of  Thomas  Poole  and  his  Friends,  ii. 'I'll ; 

yours,    from    1st   January,    180'.)  ; "  Fragmentary    Bemains    of   Sir    H. 

and  a  letter  to  Davy,  of  December,  Davy,  p.  101. 


534  GRASMERE  AND  TUE  FRIEND  [Dec. 

depend  on  the  zeal  of  my  friends,  on  which  I  fear  I  have 
thrown  more  water  than  oil  —  bnt  some  like  the  Greek 
fire  burn  beneath  the  wave  I 

"Wordsworth  has  nearly  finished  a  series  of  most  mas- 
terly Essays  ^  on  the  Affairs  of  Portugal  and  Spain,  and 
by  my  advice  he  will  first  send  them  to  you  that  if  they 
suit  the  "■  Courier  "  they  may  be  inserted. 

I  have  not  heard  from  Savage,  but  I  suppose  that  he 
has  printed  a  thousand  of  these  Prospectuses,  and  you 
may  have  any  number  from  him.  lie  lives  hard  by  some 
of  the  streets  in  Co  vent  Garden  which  I  do  not  remember, 
but  a  note  to  Mr.  Savage,  R.  Institution,  Albemarle 
Street,  will  find  him. 

INlay  God  Almighty  bless  you !  I  feel  that  I  shall  yet 
live  to  give  proof  of  what  is  deep  within  me  towards  you. 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CLXXI.  TO  FRANCIS  JEFFREY. 

Gkasmere,  December  14,  1808. 
Dear  Sir,  —  The  only  thing  in  which  I  have  been  able 
to  detect  any  degree  of  hypochrondriasis  in  my  feelings  is 
the  reading  and  answering  of  letters,  and  in  this  instance 
I  have  been  at  times  so  wof  ully  under  its  domination  as  to 
have  left  every  letter  received  lie  unopened  for  weeks  to- 
gether, all  the  while  thoroughly  ashamed  of  the  weakness 
and  yet  without  power  to  get  rid  of  it.  This,  however,  has 
not  been  the  case  of  late,  and  I  was  never  yet  so  careless  as 

^  The  Convention  of   Cintra  was  and    January,    in   the    Courier.     An 

signed   August   oO,    1808.      Woids-  accidental  loss  of  several  sheets  of 

worth's  Essays  were  begun    in    the  the  manuscript  delayed  the  continu- 

following  November.    "  For  the  sake  ance  of  the  publication  in  that  nian- 

of  immediate  and  general  circulation  ner  till  the  close  of   the  Christmas 

I  determined  (when  I  had  made  a  holidays;  and  this  plan  of  publica- 

considerable  progress  in  the  raanu-  tion  was  given  up."     Advertisement 

script)  to  print  it  in  different   por-  to     Wordsworth^ s    pamphlet    on     the 

tions  in  one  of  the  daily  newspapers.  Convention  of  Cintra.  May  20,  1S09  ; 

Accordingly  two  portions  of  it  were  Letters  from  the  Lake  Poets,  p.  385. 
printed,  in  the  months  of  December 


1808]  TO  FRANCIS  JEFFREY  535 

knowingly  to  suffer  a  letter  relating  to  money  to  remain 
unanswered  by  the  next  post  in  my  power.  I,  therefore, 
on  reading  your  very  kind  letter  of  8  Dec.  conclude  that 
one  letter  from  you  during  my  movements  from  Grasmere, 
now  to  Keswick,  now  to  Bratha  and  Elleray,  and  now  to 
Kendal,  has  been  mislayed. 

As  I  considered  your  insertion  of  the  review  of  Mr. 
Clarkson's  as  an  act  of  j)ersonal  kindness  and  attention 
to  the  request  of  one  a  stranger  to  you  except  by  name, 
the  thought  of  any  pecuniary  remuneration  never  once 
occurred  to  me ;  and  had  it  been  written  at  yom-  request 
I  should  have  thought  twenty  guineas  a  somewhat  extrav- 
agant price  whether  I  considered  the  quantity  or  quality 
of  the  communication.  As  to  the  alterations,  your  char- 
acter and  interest,  as  the  known  Editor  of  the  Review,  are 
pledged  for  a  general  consistency  of  principle  in  the  dif- 
ferent articles  with  each  other,  and  you  had  every  possible 
right  to  alter  or  omit  ad  libitvm,  unless  a  special  condition 
had  been  insisted  on  of  aut  totum  aut  nihil.  As  the 
writer,  therefore,  I  neither  thought  nor  cared  about  the 
alterations ;  as  a  general  reader,  I  differed  with  you  as  [to] 
the  scale  of  merit  relatively  to  Mr.  Wilberforce,  whose 
services  I  deem  to  have  been  overrated,  not,  perhaps,  so 
much  absolutely  as  by  comparison.  At  all  events,  some 
following  passages  should  have  been  omitted,  as  they  are 
in  blank  contradiction  to  the  paragraph  inserted,  and 
betrayed  a  co-presence  of  two  writers  in  one  article.  As 
to  the  longer  paragraph,  Wordsworth  thinks  you  on  the 
true  side ;  and  Clarkson  himself  that  you  were  not  far 
from  the  truth.  As  to  my  own  opinion,  I  believed  what 
I  wrote,  and  deduced  my  belief  from  all  the  facts  pro  and 
con,  with  which  Mr.  Clarkson's  conversation  have  fur- 
nished [me]  ;  but  such  is  my  detestation  of  that  pernicious 
Minister,^  such  my  contempt  of  the  cowardice  and  fatuity 

^  "  In    the    place   of    some    just     stituted  some  abuse  and  detraction." 
eulogiums  due  to  Mr.  Pitt  was  sub-    Allsop's  Letters,  1836,  ii.  112. 


536  GRASMERE  AND  THE  FRIEND  [Dec. 

of  his  measui'es,  and  my  hoiTor  at  the  yet  unended  train 
of  their  direful  conso({iienees,  that,  if  obedience  to  truth 
coidd  ever  be  painful  to  ine,  this  woidd  have  been.  I 
acted  well  in  writing  what  on  the  whole  I  believed  the 
more  probable,  and  I  was  pleased  that  you  acted  equally 
well  in  idtering-  it  according  to  your  convictions. 

I  had  hoped  to  have  furnished  a  letter  of  more  interest- 
ing contents  to  you,  but  an  honest  gentleman  in  London 
having  taken  a  great  fancy  to  two  thirds  of  the  possible 
profits  of  my  literary  labours  without  a  shadow  of  a  claim, 
and  having  over-hurried  the  business  through  overweening 
of  my  simplicity  and  carelessness,  has  occasioned  me  some 
perplexity  and  a  great  deal  of  trouble  and  letter-writing. 
I  will  write,  however,  again  to  you  my  first  leisure  even- 
ing, whether  I  hear  from  you  or  no  in  the  interim. 

I  trust  you  have  received  my  scrawl  with  the  prospectus  ^ 
and  feel  sincerely  thankful  to  you  for  your  kindness  on 
the  arrival  of  the  prospectuses,  prior  to  your  receipt  of 
the  letter  which  was  meant  to  have  announced  them.  But 
our  post  here  is  very  irregular  as  well  as  circuitous  —  but 
three  times  a  week  —  and  then,  too,  we  have  to  walk  more 
than  two  miles  for  the  chance  of  finding  letters.  This 
you  will  be  so  good  as  to  take  into  account  whenever  my 
answers  do  not  arrive  at  the  time  they  might  have  been 
expected  from  places  in  general.  I  remain,  dear  sii",  with 
kind  and  respectfid  feeling,  your  obliged, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 


*  A  preliminary  prospectus  of  The  and  "year-long  absences"  he  gives 

Friend  was  printed  at  Kendal  and  up,  but,  as  the  postscript  intimates, 

submitted  to  Jeffrey  and  a  few  oth-  "moral  impulses"  he  has  the  hardi- 

ers.     A  copy  of  this  "  first  edition  "  hood   to    retain.     See    The   Friend'' s 

is  in  my  possession,  and  it  is  inter-  Quarterly  Examiner  for  July,   1893, 

esting  to  notice  that  Coleridge  has  art.  "JS.  T.Coleridge  on  Quaker  Prin- 

directed  his  amanuensis,  MLss  Hutch-  ciples ;  "  and  Athenceum  for  Septem- 

in.son,   to   amend    certain   offending  ber    IG,    lS!*o,    art.    "  Coleridge    on 

phrases  in  accordance  with  Jeffrey's  Quaker  Principles." 
suggestions.     "  Speculative  gloom  " 


1808]  TO   FRANCIS  JEFFREY  537 

I  entirely  coincide  in  your  dislike  of  "  speculative 
gloom  "  —  it  is  illogical  as  well  as  barbarous,  and  almost 
as  bad  as  "  picturesque  eye."  I  do  not  know  how  I  came 
to  pass  it ;  for  when  I  first  wrote  it,  I  undermarked  it,  not 
as  the  expression,  but  as  a  remembrancer  of  some  better 
that  did  not  immediately  occur  to  me.  "Year-long  ab- 
sences" I  think  doubtful  —  had  any  one  objected  to  it,  I 
should  have  altered  it ;  but  it  woidd  not  much  offend  me 
in  the  writings  of  another.  But  to  "  moral  impulses  "  I 
see  at  present  no  objections,  nor  does  any  other  phrase  sug- 
gest itself  to  me  which  would  have  expressed  my  meaning. 
That  there  is  a  semblance  of  presumptuousness  in  the  man- 
ner I  exceedingly  regret,  if  so  it  be  —  my  heart  bears  me 
witness  that  the  feeling  had  no  place  there.  Yet  I  need 
not  say  to  you  that  it  is  impossible  to  succeed  in  such  a 
work  unless  at  the  commencement  of  it  there  be  a  quick- 
ening and  throb  in  the  pulse  of  hope  ;  and  what  if  a  blush 
from  inward  modesty  disguise  itself  on  these  occasions,  and 
the  hectic  of  unusual  self-assertion  increase  the  appearance 
of  that  excess  which  it  in  reality  resists  and  modifies  ?  It 
will  amuse  you  to  be  informed  that  from  two  correspond- 
ents, both  of  them  men  of  great  literary  celebrity,  I  have 
received  reproof  for  a  supposed  affectation  of  humility  in 
the  style  of  the  prospectus.  In  my  own  consciousness  I 
was  guilty  of  neither.  Yet  surely  to  advance  as  a  teacher, 
and  in  the  very  act  to  declare  yourseK  inferior  to  those 
whom  you  propose  to  teach,  is  incongruous  ;  and  must  dis- 
gust a  pure  mind  by  its  evident  hypocrisy. 


638  GRASMERE  AND  THE  FRIEND  [Dec. 

CLXXII.     TO    THOMAS   WILKINSON.^ 

Gkasmere,  December  31,  1808. 
Dear  Sir,  —  I  thank  you  for  your  exertions  in  my 
behalf,  and  —  which  more  deeply  interests  me  —  for  the 
openness  with  which  you  have  communicated  your  doubts 
and  ai)i)rchensions.  So  much,  indeed,  am  I  interested, 
that  1  cannot  lay  down  my  head  on  my  pillow  in  perfect 
tranquillity,  without  endeavoring  to  remove  them.  First, 
however,  I  must  tell  you  that  ..."  The  Friend "  will 
not  a])pear  at  the  time  conditionally  announced.  There 
are,  besides,  great  difficulties  at  the  Stamp  Office  concern- 
ing it.  But  the  particulars  I  will  detail  when  we  meet. 
Myself,  with  William  Wordsworth  and  the  family,  are 
glad  that  we  are  so  soon  to  see  you.  Now  then  for  what 
is  so  near  my  heart.  Only  a  certain  number  of  jjrospec- 
tuses  were  printed  at  Kendal,  and  sent  to  acquaintances. 
The  much  larger  number,  which  were  to  have  been  jDrinted 
at  London,  have  not  been  printed.  When  they  are,  you 
will  see  in  the  article,  noted  in  this  copy,  that  I  neither 
intend  to  omit,  nor  from  any  fear  of  offence  have  scrupled 
to  announce  my  intention  of  treating,  the  subject  of  reli- 

^  Tliomas  Wilkinson,  of  Yanwath,  Dress,  Dancing',  Gardening,  Music, 
near  Penritli,  was  a  member  of  the  Poetry,  and  Painting  "  were  erased 
Society  of  Friends.  He  owned  and  in  obedience  to  Wilkinson.  Most 
tilled  a  small  estate  on  the  banks  of  of  these  articles,  however,  "  Archi- 
the  Emont,  which  he  laid  oiit  and  tecture,  Dress,"  etc.,  reappeared  in 
ornamented  ' '  after  the  manner  of  a  second  edition  of  the  Prospectus, 
Shenstone  at  his  Leasowes."  As  a  attached  to  the  second  number  of 
friend  and  neighbour  of  the  Clark-  The  Friend,  but  Dancing-,  "Greek 
son-s  and  of  Lord  Lonsdale  he  was  statuesque  dancing,"  on  which  Cole- 
well  known  to  Wordsworth,  who,  ridge  might  have  discoursed  at  some 
greatly  daring,  wrote  in  his  lionour  length,  was  gone  forever.  Words- 
hLs  lines  "  To  the  Spade  of  a  Friend  worth's  Works,  p.  211  (Fenwick 
(an  Agriculturist)."  Note) ;   The  Friend's   Quarterly  Ex- 

Ahw!    for  the   poor   Prospectus!  aminer,   July,    1893;    Becords   of  a 

"  Speculative   gloom "    and    "  year-  Quaker   Family,    by    Anne    Ogden 

long  absence  "  had  been  sacrificed  Boyce,  London,  1889,  pp.  30,  31, 55. 
to  Jeffriv,  and  now  "  Architecttire, 


1808]  TO   THOMAS   WILKINSON.  6o9 

gion.  I  had  suijposed  that  the  words  "  speculative  gloom  " 
would  have  conveyed  this  intention.  I  had  inserted  an- 
other article,  which  I  was  induced  to  omit,  from  the  fear 
of  exciting  doubts  and  queries.  This  was  :  On  the  transi- 
tion of  natural  religion  into  revelation,  or  the  principle  of 
internal  guidance :  and  the  gTOunds  of  the  possibility  of 
the  connection  of  spiritual  revelation  with  historic  events  ; 
that  is,  its  manifestation  in  the  world  of  the  senses.  This 
meant  as  a  preliminary  —  leaving,  as  already  performed 
by  others,  the  proof  of  the  reality  of  this  connection  in 
the  jDarticular  fact  of  Christianity.  Herein  I  wished  to 
prove  only  that  true  philosophy  rather  leads  to  Chris- 
tianity, than  contained  anything  preclusive  of  it,  and 
therefore  adopted  the  phrase  used  in  the  definition  of 
philosophy  in  general :  namely.  The  science  which  answers 
the  question  of  things  actual,  how  they  are  possible  ? 
Thus  the  laws  of  gravitation  illustrate  the  possihility  of 
the  motion  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  the  action  of  the  lever, 
etc. ;  the  reality  of  which  was  already  known.  I  men- 
tion this,  because  the  argument  assigned  which  induced 
me  to  omit  it  in  a  prospectus  was,  that  by  making  a  dis- 
tinction between  revelation  in  itself  («.  e.  a  principle  of 
internal  supernatural  guidance),  and  the  same  revelation 
conjoined  with  the  power  of  external  manifestation  by 
supernatural  works,  would  proclaim  me  to  be  a  Quaker, 
and  "  The  Friend  "*  as  intended  to  propagate  peculiar  and 
sectarian  principles.  Think  then,  dear  Friend  !  what  my 
regret  was  at  finding  that  you  had  taken  it  for  granted 
that  I  denied  the  existence  of  an  internal  monitor !  I 
trust  I  am  neither  of  Paul,  or  of  Apollos,  or  of  Cephas ; 
but  of  Christ.  Yet  I  feel  reverential  gratitude  toward 
those  who  have  conveyed  the  spirit  of  Christ  to  my  heart 
and  understanding  so  as  to  afford  light  to  the  latter  and 
vital  warmth  to  the  former.  Such  gratitude  I  owe  and 
feel  toward  W.  Penn.  Take  his  Preface  to  G.  Fox's 
Journal,  and  his  Letter  to  his  Son,  —  if  they  contain  a 


540  GRASMERE  AND  THE  FRIEND  [Feb. 

faithful  statement  of  genuine  Christianity  according  to 
your  faith,  I  am  one  with  you.  I  subscribe  to  each  and 
all  of  the  principles  therein  laid  down ;  and  by  them  I 
propose  to  try,  and  endeavour  to  justify,  the  charge  made 
by  me  (uiy  conscience  bears  me  witness)  in  the  spirit  of 
entire  love  against  some  passages  of  the  journals  of  later 
Friends.  Oh  —  and  it  is  a  groan  of  earnest  aspiration  !  a 
strong  wish  of  bitter  tears  and  bitter  self-dissatisfaction,  — 
Oh  that  in  all  things,  in  self -subjugation,  unwearied  benefi- 
cence, and  unfeigned  listening  and  obedience  to  the  Voice 
within,  I  were  as  like  the  evangelic  John  Woolman,  as  I 
know  myself  to  be  in  the  belief  of  the  existence  and  the 
sovran  authority  of  that  Voice !  When  we  meet,  I  will 
endeavour  to  be  wholly  known  to  you  as  I  am,  in  principle 
at  least. 

A  few  words  more.  Unsuspicious  of  the  possibility  of 
misunderstanding,  I  had  inserted  in  this  prospectus  Dress 
and  Dancing  among  the  fine  Arts,  the  principles  common  to 
which  I  was  to  develope.  Now  surely  anything  common 
to  Dress  or  Dancing  with  Architecture,  Gardening,  and 
Poetry  could  contain  nothing  to  alarm  any  man  who  is 
not  alarmed  by  Gardening,  Poetry,  etc.,  and  secondly, 
principles  common  to  Poetry,  Music,  etc.,  etc.,  could  hardly 
be  founded  in  the  ridiculous  hopping  up  and  down  in  a 
modern  ball-room,  or  the  washes,  paints,  and  patches  of  a 
fine  lady's  toilet.  It  is  well  known  how  much  I  admired 
Thomas  Clarkson's  Chapter  on  Dancing.  The  truth  is, 
that  I  referred  to  the  drapery  and  ornamental  decoration 
of  Painting,  Statuary,  and  the  Greek  Spectacles ;  and  to 
the  scientific  dancing  of  the  ancient  Greeks,  the  business 
of  a  life  confined  to  a  small  class,  and  placed  under  the 
direction  of  particular  magistrates.  My  object  was  to 
prove  the  truth  of  the  principles  by  shewing  that  even 
dress  and  dancing,  when  the  ingenuity  and  caprice  of  man 
had  elaborated  them  into  Fine  Arts,  were  bottomed  in  the 
same  principles.     But  desirous  even  to  avoid  suspicion, 


1809]  TO  THOMAS  POOLE  541 

the  passage  will  be  omitted  in  the  future  prospectuses. 
Farewell !  till  we  meet. 

S.  T.  Coleridge.     See  P.  S. 

P.  S.  Do  you  not  know  enough  of  the  world  to  be  con- 
vinced that  by  declaring  myself  a  warm  defender  of  the 
Established  Church  against  all  sectarians,  or  even  by 
attacking  Quakerism  in  particular  as  a  sect  hateful  to  the 
bigots  of  the  day  from  its  rejection  of  priesthood  and  out- 
ward sacraments,  I  should  gain  twenty  subscribers  to  one  ? 
It  shocks  me  even  to  think  that  so  mean  a  motive  could 
be  supposed  to  influence  me.  I  say  aloud  everywhere, 
that  in  the  essentials  of  their  faith  I  believe  as  the  Qua- 
kers do,  and  so  I  make  enemies  of  the  Church,  of  the 
Calvinists,  and  even  of  the  Unitarians.  Again,  I  declare 
my  dissatisfaction  with  several  points  both  of  notion  and  of 
practice  among  the  present  Quakers  —  I  dare  not  conceal 
my  convictions  —  and  therefore  receive  little  good  opinion 
even  from  those,  with  whom  I  most  accord.  But  Truth  is 
sacred. 

CLXXIII.    TO   THOMAS   POOLE. 

Grasmere,  Kendal,  February  3,  1809. 

My  dearest  Poole,  —  For  once  in  my  life  I  shall 
have  been  blamed  by  you  for  silence,  indolence,  and  pro- 
crastination without  reason.  Even  now  I  write  this  letter 
on  a  speculation,  for  I  am  to  take  it  with  me  to-morrow  to 
Kendal,  and  if  I  can  bring  the  proposed  printer  and  pub- 
lisher to  final  terms,  to  put  it  into  the  post.  It  would  be 
a  tiresome  job  were  I  to  detail  to  you  all  the  vexations, 
hindrances,  sooundrelisms,  disap])ointments,  and  pros  and 
cons  that,  witliout  the  least  fault  or  remissness  on  my  part, 
have  rendered  it  impracticable  to  publish  "The  Friend"' 
till  the  first  week  of  March.  The  whole,  however,  is  now 
settled,  provided  that  Pennington  (a  worthy  old  book- 
seller and  printer  of  Kendal,  but  a  genius  and  mightily 
indifferent  about  the  affairs  of  this  life,  both  from  that 


542  GRASMERE   AND   THE   FRIEND  [Feb. 


cause  and  from  age,  and  from  being  as  rich  as  he  wishes) 
will  become,  as  he  has  almost  promised,  the  printer  and 
publisher.^ 

"  The  Friend  "  will  be  stamped  as  a  newspaper  and 
under  the  Newspaper  Act,  which  will  take  3.]d.  from  each 
shilling,  but  enable  the  essay  to  pass  into  all  parts  and 
corners  of  the  Empire  without  exjiense  or  trouble.  It 
will  be  so  published  as  to  appear  in  London  every  Satur- 
day morning,  and  be  sent  off  from  the  Kendal  post  to 
every  part  of  the  Kingdom  by  the  Thursday  morning's 
post.  I  hope  that  Mr.  Stuart  will  have  the  prospectuses 
printed  by  this  time,  —  at  all  events,  within  a  day  or  two 
after  your  receipt  of  this  letter  you  will  receive  a  parcel 
of  them.  The  money  is  to  be  paid  to  the  bookseller,  the 
agent,  in  the  next  towai,  once  in  twenty  weeks,  where 
there  are  several  subscribers  in  the  same  vicinity ;  other- 
wise, [it]  must  be  remitted  to  me  direct.  This  is  the  ug- 
liest part  of  the  business :  but  there  is  no  getting  over  it 
without  a  most  villainous  diminution  of  my  profits.  You 
will,  I  know,  exert  yourself  to  procure  me  as  many  names 
as  you  can,  for  if  it  succeeds,  it  will  almost  make  me. 

Among  my  subscribers  I  have  Mr.  Canning  and  Sturges 
Bourne,  and  Mr.  W.  Rose,  of  whose  moral  odour  your 
nose,  I  believe,  has  had  competent  experience.  The  first 
prospectus  I  receive,  I  shall  send  with  letters  to  Lord 
Egmont  and  Lady  E.  Percival,  and  to  Mr.  Acland. 

1  The  original  draft  of    the  pro-  attached  to  the  first  number  of  the 

spectws  of  r/(e  Fnenrf,  which  was  is-  weekly    issue,    June    1,    1809,    was 

sued  in  the  late  autumn  of  1808,  was  printed  by  Brown,  a  bookseller  and 

printed  at  Kendal  by  W.  Penning-  stationer  at   Penrith,   who,    on   Mr. 

ton.     Certain  alterations  were  sug-  Pennington's   refusal,  undertook   to 

gested  by  Jeffrey  and  others  (Sou-  print  and  publisli  The  Friend.    Some 

they  in   a  letter  to  Rickman    dated  curious  letters  which  passed  between 

January    18,    1800,   complains    that  Coleridge  and  his  printer,  together 

Coleridge  had  "  carried  a  prospectus  with  the  MS.  of   The  Friend,  in  the 

-wet  from  the  pen  to  the  publisher,  handwriting  of  Miss  Sarah  Hutchin- 

without  consulting  anybody "),  and  son,    are   preserved    in  the    For.ster 

a  fresh  batch    of   prospectuses  was  Library  at  the  South  Kensington  Mu- 

printed  in  London.     A  third  variant  seura.     Letters  from  the  Lake  Poets. 


1809]  TO   THOMAS   POOLE  543 

You  will  probably  have  seen  two  of  Wordsworth's  Es- 
says in  the  "  Courier,"  signed  "  G."  The  two  last  colamns 
of  the  second,  excepting  the  concluding  paragraph,  were 
written  all  but  a  few  sentences  by  me.^  An  accident  in 
London  delayed  the  publication  ten  days.  The  whole, 
therefore,  is  now  publishing  as  a  pamphlet,  and  I  believe 
with  a  more  comprehensive  title. 

1  cannot  say  whether  I  was  —  indeed,  both  I  and  W. 
W.  —  more  pleased  or  affected  by  the  whole  of  your  last 
letter  ;  it  came  from  a  very  pure  and  warm  heart  through 
the  moulds  of  a  clear  and  strong  brain.  But  I  have  not 
now  time  to  write  on  these  concerns.  For  my  opinions, 
feelings,  hopes,  and  apprehensions,  I  can  safely  refer  you 
to  Wordsworth's  pamphlet.  The  minister's  conduct  hith- 
erto is  easily  defined.  A  great  deal  too  much  because 
not  half  enough.  Two  essays  of  my  own  on  this  most 
lofty  theme,  —  what  we  are  entitled  to  hope,  what  com- 
pelled to  fear  concerning  the  Spanish  nation,  by  the  light 
of  history  and  psychological  knowledge,  you  mil  soon  see 
in  the  "  Courier."  PoorWardle!^  I  fear  lest  his  zeal 
may  have  made  him  confound  that  degree  of  evidence 
which  is  sufficient  to  convince  an  unprejudiced  private 
company  with  that  which  will  satisfy  an  unwilling  nu- 
merous assembly  of  factious  and  corrupt  judges.  As  to 
the  truth  of  the^  charges,  I  have  little  doubt,  knowing 
myself  similar  facts. 

O  dear  Poole !     Beddoes'  departure  ^  has  taken  more 

pp.  85-188 ;  Selections  from  the  Letters  gard  to  the  undue  influence  in  mili- 

ofH.  Southey,  ii.  120.  tary  appointments  of  the  notorious 

'  Compare   letters  to  Stuart  (De-  Mrs.  Clarke, 

cember),  18US.     "  You  will  long  ere  •'  Coleridge's  friendship  with  Dr. 

this    have    received    Wordsworth's  Beddoes  dated  from    17'.l")-0n,  and 

second  Essay,  etc.,  rewritten  by  me,  was    associated    with    his    happier 

and  in  some  parts  reeomposed."  Let-  days.     It  is  possible  that  the  recent 

tersfrom  the  Lake  Poels,  p.  101.  amendment   in    health    and    spirits 

2  Colonel  Wardle,  who  led  the  at-  was  due  to  advice  and  sympathy 
tack  in  the  House  of  Commons  which  he  had  met  with  in  response 
against  the  Duke  of  York,  with  re-  to  a  confession  made  in  writing  to 


544  GRASMERE  AND  THE  FRIEND  [March 

hope  out  of  luy  life  than  any  former  event  except  perhaps 
T.  Wedgwood's.  That  did  indeed  pull  very  hard  at  me ; 
never  a  week,  seldom  two  days  have  i)assed  in  which  the 
recollection  has  not  made  me  sad  or  thoughtful.  Bed- 
does'  seems  to  pidl  yet  harder,  because  it  combines  with 
the  former,  because  it  is  the  second,  and  because  I  have 
not  been  in  the  habit  of  connecting-  such  a  weight  of  de- 
spondency with  my  attachment  to  him  as  with  my  love  of 
my  revered  and  dear  benefactor.  Poor  Beddoes  !  he  was 
good  and  beneficent  to  all  men,  but  to  me  he  was,  more- 
over, affectionate  and  loving,  and  latterly  his  sufferings 
had  opened  out  his  being  to  a  delicacy,  a  tenderness,  a 
moral  beauty,  and  unlocked  the  source  of  sensibility  as 
with  a  key  from  heaven. 

My  own  health  is  more  recjular  than  formerly,  for  I  am 
severely  temi)erate  and  take  nothing  that  has  not  been 
pronounced  medically  unavoidable  ;  yet  my  sufferings  are 
often  great,  and  I  am  rarely  indeed  wholly  without  pain 
or  sensations  more  oppressive  than  definite  pain.  But  my 
mind,  and  what  is  far  better,  my  will  is  active.  I  must 
leave  a  short  space  to  add  at  Kendal  after  all  is  settled. 

My  beloved  and  honoured  friend !  may  God  preserve 
you  and  your  obliged,  and  affectionately  gratefid, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

My  dearest  Poole,  —  Old  Mr.  Pennington  has  ulti- 
mately declined  the  printing  and  publishing ;  indeed,  he 
is  about  to  decline  business  altogether.  There  is  no  other 
in  this  country  capable  of  doing  the  work,  and  to  printing 
and  publishing  in  London  there  are  gigantic  objections. 
What  think  you  of  a  press  at  Grasmere?  I  will  write 
when  I  get  home.  Oh,  if  you  luiew  what  a  warmth  of  un- 
usual feeling,  what  a  genial  air  of  new  and  living  hope 

his  old  Bristol  friend.    His  death,  "take  out  of  his  life  "  the  hope  of 

which  took  ])lace  on  the  24th  of  De-  self-conqnest.      The   letter    implies 

cemher,    ISOS,  would  roh  Coleridg'e  that  he  had  recently  heard  from  or 

of  a  newly-found  support,  and  would  conversed  with  Beddoes. 


1809]  TO  DANIEL  STUART  545 

breathed  upon  me  as  I  read  tliat  casual  sentence  in  your 
letter,  seeming  to  imply  a  chance  we  have  of  seeing  you 
at  Grasmere !  I  assure  you  that  the  whole  family,  Mrs. 
Wordsworth  and  her  all-amiable  sister,  not  with  less 
warmth  than  W.  W.  and  Dorothy,  were  made  cheerful 
and  wore  a  more  holiday  look  the  whole  day  after.  Oh, 
do,  do  come  ! 

CLXXIV.     TO   DANIEL   STUART. 

Posted  March  .31,  1809. 

My  dear  Friend,  —  I  have  been  severely  indisposed, 
Icnoched  up  indeed,  with  a  complaint  of  a  contagious  na- 
ture called  the  Mumps ;  ^  preceded  by  most  distressing 
low  spirits,  or  rather  absence  of  all  spirits;  and  accom- 
panied with  deafness  and  stui^efying  perpetual  echo  in  the 
ear.  But  it  is  going  off.  Little  John  Wordsworth  was 
attacked  with  it  last  year  when  I  was  in  London,  and  from 
the  stupor  with  which  it  suffuses  the  eyes  and  look,  it  Avas 
cruelly  mistaken  for  water  on  the  brain.  It  has  been 
brought  here  a  second  time  by  some  miners,  and  is  a  dis- 
ease with  little  danger  and  no  remedy. 

I  attributed  your  silence  to  its  right  cause,  and  I  assiu'e 
you  when  I  was  at  Penrith  and  Kendal  it  was  very  pleas- 
ant to  me  to  hear  how  universally  the  conduct  of  the 
"  Courier  "  was  extolled ;  indeed,  you  have  behaved  most 
nobly,  and  it  is  impossible  but  that  you  must  have  had  a 
great  weight  in  the  displacing  of  that  prime  grievance  of 
grievances.  Among  many  reflections  that  kept  crowding 
on  my  mind  during  the  trial,^  this  was  perhaps  the  chief  — 

^  Compare  letter  from  Southey  to  extra    swatliings    whicli    yesterday 

J.  N.  White  dated  April  21,    1809.  buried  my  chin,  after  the  fashion  of 

"A  ridiculous   disorder  called  the  fops   a  few  years   ago."     Selections 

Mumps    hjis    nearly  gone    through  from    the   Letters  of  B.   Southey,   ii. 

the   house,   and   visited  me   on   its  135,  136. 

way  —  a  thing  -which  puts  one  more  '^  The  Parliamentary  investigation 

out  of  humour  than  out  of  health  ;  of  the  charges  and  allegations  with 

but  my  neck  has  now  regained  its  regard  to  the  military  patronage  of 

elasticity,  and  I  have  left  off  the  the  Duke  of  York. 


546  GRASMERE  AND  THE  FRIEND  [June 

What  if,  after  a  long,  long  reign,  some  titled  sycophant 
should  whisper  to  ^Majesty,  ''  By  what  means  do  your  Min- 
isters manage  the  Legislature  ?  "  "  By  the  distribution  of 
patronage,  according  to  the  influence  of  individuals  who 
claim  it."  ''  Do  this  yourself,  or  by  your  own  family, 
and  you  become  indei)endent  of  parties,  and  your  Ministers 
are  your  servants.  The  Army  under  a  favourite  son,  the 
Church  with  a  wife,  etc.,  etc."  Good  heavens  !  the  very 
essence  of  the  Constitution  is  unmoulded,  and  the  ven- 
erable motto  of  our  liberty,  "  The  king  can  do  no  wrong," 
becomes  nonsense  and  blasphemy.  As  soon  as  ever  my 
mind  is  a  little  at  ease,  I  will  put  together  the  fragments  I 
have  written  on  this  subject,  and  if  AYordsworth  have  not 
anticipated  me,  add  to  it  some  thoughts  on  the  effect  of 
the  military  principle.  We  owe  something  to  Whitbread 
for  his  (pienching  at  the  first  sjiiell  a  possible  fire.  How 
is  it  possible  that  a  man  apparently  so  honest  can  talk 
and  think  as  he  does  respecting  France,  peace,  and  Buona- 
parte? .  .  . 

On  Thursday  Wordsworth,  Southey,  and  myself,  with 
the  printer  and  publisher,  go  to  Aj^pleby  to  sign  and  seal, 
which  paper,  etc.,  will  of  course  be  inunediately  disj^atched 
to  London.  I  doubt  not  but  that  the  <£60  will  be  now 
paid  at  the  "  Courier  "  office  in  a  few  days ;  and  as  soon  as 
you  will  let  me  know  whether  the  stamped  paper  is  to  be 
paid  for  necessarily  in  ready  money,  or  with  what  credit, 
I  shall  instantly  write  to  some  of  my  friends  to  ad- 
vance me  what  is  absolutely  necessary.  I  can  only  say  I 
am  ready  and  eager  to  commence,  and  that  I  earnestly 
hope  to  see  "  The  Friend  "  advertised  shortly  for  the  first 
of  May.  As  to  the  Paper,  how  and  from  whom,  and 
what  and  in  what  quantity,  I  must  again  leave  to  your 
judgment,  and  recommend  to  your  affection  for  me.  I 
have  reason  to  believe  that  I  shall  commence  with  500 
names. 

I  write  from  Keswick.      Mrs.  Southey  was  delivered 


1809]  TO   DANIEL   STUART  547 

yester-morning  of  a  girl.i  I  forgot  to  say,  that  I  have 
been  obliged  to  purchase,  and  have  paid  for,  a  font  of 
types  of  small  pica,  the  same  with  the  London  Prospectus, 
from  Wilsons  of  Glasgow.  I  was  assured  they  would 
cost  only  from  £25  to  X28,  instead  of  which,  £38  odd. 
God  bless  you  and  S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CLXXV.     TO   THE    SAME. 

Gkasmerk,  Kendal,  June  13,  1809. 

Dear  Stuart,  —  I  left  Penrith  Monday  noon,  and, 
prevented  by  the  heavy  rain  from  crossing  Grisedale  Tarn 
(near  the  summit  of  Helvellyn,  and  our  most  perilous  and 
difficult  Alpine  Pass),  the  same  day  I  slept  at  Luff's,  and 
crossed  it  yester-morning,  and  arrived  here  by  brealcfast 
time.  I  was  sadly  grieved  at  Wordsworth's  account  of 
yoiu"  late  sorrows  and  troubles.  .  .  . 

I  cannot  adequately  express  how  much  I  am  concerned 
lest  anything  I  wrote  in  my  last  letter  (though  God  knows 
under  the  influence  of  no  one  feeling  which  you  would  not 
wish  me  to  have)  should  chance  to  have  given  you  any 
additional  unpleasantness,  however  small.  Would  that  I 
had  worthier  means  than  words  and  professions  of  proving 
to  you  what  my  heart  is.  .  .  . 

I  rise  every  morning  at  five,  and  work  three  hours  be- 
fore breakfast,  either  in  letter-writing  or  serious  composi- 
tion. .  .  . 

I  take  for  granted  that  more  than  the  poor  <£G0  has 
been  expended  in  the  paper  I  have  received.  But  I  have 
written  to  Mr,  Clarkson  to  see  what  can  be  done  ;  for  it 
would  be  a  sad  thing  to  give  it  all  up  now  I  am  going  on 
so  well  merely  for  want  of  means  to  provide  the  first 
twenty  weeks  paper.  IVIy  present  stock  will  not  quite  suf- 
fice for  three  niunbers.  I  printed  620  of  No.  1,  and  G50 
of  No.  2,  and  so  many  more  are  called  for  that  I  shall  be 

1  Bertha  Southey,  afterwards  Mrs.  Herbert  Hill,  was  born  March  27, 
1809. 


548  GRASMERE  AND  THE  FRIEND  [June 

forced  to  reprint  botli  as  soon  as  I  hear  from  Clarkson. 
The  proof  sheet  of  No,  3  goes  back  to-day,  and  with  it 
the  copy  of  No.  4,  so  that  henceforth  we  sliall  be  secure 
of  reguhu'ity  ;  indeed  it  was  not  all  my  fault  before,  but 
the  printer's  inexperience  and  the  nmltitude  of  errors, 
though  from  a  very  decent  copy,  which  took  him  a  full 
day  and  more  in  correcting.  I  had  altered  my  plan  for 
the  Introductory  Essays  after  my  arrival  at  Penrith,  which 
cost  me  exceeding  trouble  ;  but  the  numbers  to  come  are 
in  a  very  superior  style  of  polish  and  easy  intelligibility. 
The  only  thing  at  present  which  I  am  under  the  necessity 
of  applying  to  you  for  respects  Clement.  It  may  be  his 
interest  to  sell  "  The  Friend  "  at  his  shop,  and  a  certain 
number  will  always  be  sent ;  but  I  am  quite  in  the  dark 
as  to  wdiat  profits  he  expects.  Surely  not  book-profits  for 
a  newspaper  that  can  circulate  by  the  post?  And  it  is 
certainly  neither  my  interest,  nor  that  of  the  regular  pur- 
chasers of  "The  Friend,"  to  have  it  bought  at  a  shoj),  in- 
stead of  receiving  it  as  a  franked  letter.  All  I  want  to 
know  is  his  terms,  for  I  have  quite  a  horror  of  booksellers, 
whose  mode  of  carrying  on  trade  in  London  is  absolute 
rapacity.  .  .  . 

On  this  ruinous  plan  poor  Southe}^  has  been  toiling  for 
years,  w'ith  an  industry  honourable  to  human  nature,  and 
must  starve  upon  it  were  it  not  for  the  more  profitable 
employment  of  reviewing ;  a  task  unworthy  of  him,  or 
even  of  a  man  with  not  one  half  of  his  honour  and  hon- 
esty. 

I  have  just  read  Wordsworth's  pamphlet,  and  more 
than  fear  that  your  friendly  expectations  of  its  sale  and 
influence  have  been  too  sanguine.  Plad  I  not  known  the 
author  I  woidd  willingly  have  travelled  from  St.  Michael's 
IVIount  to  Johnny  Groat's  House  on  a  pilgrimage  to  see 
and  reverence  him.  But  from  the  public  I  am  apprehen- 
sive, first,  that  it  will  be  impossible  to  rekindle  an  ex- 
hausted  interest  respecting  the  Cintra  Convention,  and 


1809]  TO  DANIEL  STUART  549 

therefore  that  the  long  porch  may  prevent  readers  from 
entering  the  Temple.  Secondly,  that,  partly  from  Words- 
worth's own  style,  which  represents  the  chain  of  his 
thoughts  and  the  movements  of  his  heart,  admirably  for 
me  and  a  few  others,  but  I  fear  does  not  possess  the  more 
profitable  excellence  of  translating  these  down  into  that 
style  which  might  easily  convey  them  to  the  understand- 
ings of  common  readers,  and  partly  from  Mr.  De  Quin- 
cey's  strange  and  most  mistaken  system  of  punctuation  — 
(The  periods  are  often  alarmingly  long,  perforce  of  their 
construction,  but  De  Quincey's  punctuation  has  made  sev- 
eral of  them  immeasurable,  and  perplexed  half  the  rest. 
Never  was  a  stranger  whim  than  the  notion  that  ,  ;  :  and 
.  could  be  made  logical  symbols,  expressing  all  the  diver- 
sities of  logical  connection)  —  but,  lastly,  I  fear  that  read- 
ers, even  of  judgement,  may  complain  of  a  want  of  shade 
and  background ;  that  it  is  all  foreground,  all  in  hot  tints ; 
that  the  first  note  is  pitched  at  the  height  of  the  instru- 
ment, and  never  suffered  to  sink ;  that  such  depth  of  feel- 
ing is  so  incorporated  with  depth  of  thought,  that  the 
attention  is  kept  throughout  at  its  utmost  strain  and 
stretch ;  and  —  but  this  for  my  own  feeling.  I  could  not 
help  feeling  that  a  considerable  part  is  almost  a  self-rob- 
bery from  some  great  philosophical  poem,  of  which  it 
would  form  an  appropriate  part,  and  be  fitlier  attuned  to 
the  high  dogmatic  eloquence,  the  oracular  [tone]  of  im- 
passioned blank  verse.  In  short,  cold  readers,  conceited 
of  their  supposed  judgement,  on  the  score  of  their  possess- 
ing nothing  else,  and  for  that  reason  only,  taking  for 
granted  that  they  must  have  judgement,  will  abuse  the 
book  as  positive,  violent,  and  "  in  a  mad  passion ; "  and 
readers  of  sense  and  feeling  will  have  no  other  dread, 
than  that  the  Work  (if  it  should  die)  would  die  of  a  ple- 
thora of  the  highest  qualities  of  combined  philosophic  and 
poetic  genius.  The  Apple  Pie  they  may  say  is  made  all 
of  Quinces.     I  much  admired  our  young  friend's  note  on 


550  GllASMEllE  AND  THE  FRIEND  [Oct. 

Sir  John  Moore  and  his  clespatL-h ;  ^  it  was  excellently  ar- 
ranged and  urged.  I  have  had  no  opportunity,  as  yet,  to 
speak  a  word  to  Wordsworth  himself  about  it ;  I  wrote 
to  you  as  usual  in  f  idl  confidence. 

I  shall  not  be  a  little  anxious  to  have  your  opinion  of 
my  third  number.  Lord  Lonsdale  blames  me  for  exclud- 
ing party  politics  and  the  events  of  the  day  from  my  plan. 
I  exclude  both  the  one  and  the  other,  only  as  far  as  they 
are  merely  partij^  i.  e.  personal  and  temporal  interests,  or 
merely  events  of  To-day,  that  are  defunct  in  the  To-mor- 
row. I  flatter  myself  that  I  have  been  the  first,  who  will 
have  given  a  calm,  disinterested  account  of  our  Constitu- 
tion as  it  really  is  and  liow  it  is  so,  and  that  I  have, 
more  radically  than  has  been  done  before,  shown  the  un- 
stable and  boggy  grounds  on  which  all  systematic  reform- 
ers hitherto  have  stood.  But  be  assured  that  I  shall  give 
up  this  opinion  with  joy,  and  consider  a  truer  view  of  the 
question  a  more  than  recompense  for  the  necessity  of  re- 
tracting what  I  have  written. 

God  bless  you  !  Do,  pray,  let  me  hear  from  you,  though 
only  three  lines. 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CLXXVI.    TO  THOIVIAS   POOLE. 

October  9, 1809. 

My  dear  Poole,  —  I  received  yours  late  last  night, 
and  sincerely  thank  you  for  the  contents.  The  whole 
shall  be  arranged  as  you  have  recommended.  Yet  if  I 
know  my  own  wishes,  I  woidd  far  rather  you  had  refused 
me,  and  said  you  should  have  an  opportunity  in  a  few 
days  of  explaining  your  motives  in  jyerson,  for  oh,  the 
autmnn  is  divine  here.     You  never  beheld,  I  will  answer 

1 "  The  Appendix  (to  the  pamphlet  masterly  manner,  was  drawn  up  by 

On  the  Convention  of  Cintra),  ii  \iov-  Mr.   De    Quincey,   who  revised   the 

tion  of  the  work  whicli  Mr.  Words-  proofs  of  the  whole."     Memoirs  of 

worth    regarded    as    executed    in    a  Wordsworth,  i.  384. 


1809]  TO  THOMAS  POOLE  551 

for  it,  such  combinations  of  exquisite  heauty  with  sufficient 
grandeur  of  elevation,  even  in  Switzerland.  Besides,  I 
sorely  want  to  talk  with  you  on  many  points. 

All  the  defects  you  have  mentioned  I  am  perfectly 
aware  of,  and  am  anxiously  endeavouring  to  avoid.  There 
is  too  often  an  entortillage  in  the  sentences  and  even  in  the 
thought  (which  nothing  can  justify),  and,  always  ahnost, 
a  stately  piling  up  of  story  on  story  in  one  architectural 
period,  which  is  not  suited  to  a  periodical  essay  or  to 
essays  at  all  (Lord  Bacon,  whose  style  mine  more  nearly 
resembles  than  any  other,  in  his  greater  works,  thought 
Seneca  a  better  model  for  his  Essays),  but  least  of  all 
suited  to  the  present  illogical  age,  which  has,  in  imitation 
of  the  French,  rejected  all  the  cements  of  language,  so  that 
a  popular  book  is  now  a  mere  bag  of  marbles,  that  is, 
aphorisms  and  epigrams  on  one  subject.  But  be  assured 
that  the  numbers  will  improve  ;  indeed,  I  hope  that  if  the 
dire  stoppage  have  not  prevented  it,  you  will  have  seen 
proof  of  improvement  already  in  the  seventh  and  eighth 
numbers,  —  still  more  in  the  ninth,  tenth,  eleventh, 
twelfth,  thirteenth,  fourteenth,  and  fifteenth  numbers. 
Strange !  but  the  "  Three  Graves  "  is  the  only  thing  I 
have  yet  heard  generally  praised  and  inquired  after ! ! 
Eemember  how  many  different  guests  I  have  at  my  Round 
Table.  I  groan  ,beneath  the  Errata,  but  I  am  thirty 
miles  cross -post  from  my  printer  and  publisher,  and 
Southey,  who  has  been  my  corrector,  has  been  strangely 
oscitant,  or,  which  I  believe  is  sometimes  the  case,  has 
not  understood  the  sentences,  and  thought  they  might 
have  a  meaning  for  me  though  they  had  not  for  him. 
There  was  one  direful  one,i  No.  5,  p.  80,  lines  3  and  4. 

1  In  Southey's  copy  of  the  reprint  affections  of  the  sense  into  distinct 

of  the  stamped  sheets  of  The  Friend  Thoughts  and  Judgements,  accord- 

the  passage  runs  thus:    "However  ing  to  its  own  essentiiU  forms.    These 

this  may  be,  the  Understanding  or  forms,  however,"  etc.      The  Friend, 

regtihitive  faculty  is  manifestly  dis-  No.  5,  Thursday,  September  14, 1809, 

tinct   from    Life    and  Sensation,  its  p.  79,  n. 
function  being  to  take  up  the  passive 


552  GRASMERE  AND  THE  FRIEND  [Oct. 

Ueail,  — '' its  fimcttons  being  to  take  up  the  passive  affec- 
tions of  the  senses  into  distinct  thouf/Jits  and  judf/ements, 
according  to  its  own  essential yb?'??i.s,  forniae  formantes  in 
the  lanfuage  of  Lord  Bacon  in  contradistinction  to  the 
formae  fonnatie." 

My  greatest  difficulty  will  be  to  avoid  that  grievoris 
defect  of  running  one  number  into  another,  I  not  being- 
present  at  the  printing.  To  really  cut  down  or  stretch 
out  every  subject  to  the  Procrustes-Bed  of  sixteen  pages 
is  not  possible  without  a  sacrifice  of  my  whole  plan,  but 
most  often  I  will  divide  them  polypus-wise,  so  that  the 
first  half  should  get  itself  a  new  tail  of  its  oNvn,  and  the 
latter  a  new  head,  and  ahvays  take  care  to  leave  off  at  a 
paragraph.  With  my  best  endeavours  I  am  baffled  in 
respect  of  making  one  Essay  fill  one  number.  The  tenth 
number  is,  W.  thinks,  the  most  interesting,  "  On  the 
Errors  of  both  Parties,"  or  "  Extremes  Meet ;  "  and,  do 
what  I  would,  it  stretched  to  seven  or  eight  pages  more ; 
but  I  have  endeavoured  to  take  your  advice  in  toto,  and 
shall  announce  to  the  public  that,  with  the  exception  of 
my  volume  of  Political  Essays  and  State  Memorials,  and 
some  technical  works  of  Logic  and  Grammar,  I  shall 
consider  "  The  Friend  "  as  both  the  reservoir  and  the 
living  fountain  of  all  my  mind,  that  is,  of  both  my  powers 
and  my  attainments,  and  shall  therefore  publish  all  my 
poems  in  "  The  Friend,"  as  occasion  rises.  I  shall  begin 
with  the  "  Fears  in  Solitude,"  and  the  "  Ode  on  France," 
which  will  fill  up  the  remainder  of  No.  11  ;  so  that  my 
next  Essay  on  vulgar  Errors  concerning  Taxation,  in 
which  I  have  alluded  to  a  conversation  with  you,  will  just 
fill  No.  12  by  itself. 

I  have  been  much  affected  by  your  efforts  respecting 
poor  Blake.  Cannot  you  Avith  propriety  give  me  that 
narrative?  But,  above  all,  if  you  have  no  particular 
objection,  no  very  particular  and  insurmountable  reason 
against  it,  do,  do  let  me  have  that  divine  narrative  of 


1809]  TO  THOMAS  POOLE  553 

John  Walford,^  which  of  itself  stamps  you  a  poet  of  the 
first  class  in  the  pathetic,  and  the  painting  of  poetry  so 
very  rarely  combined. 

As  to  politics,  I  am  sad  at  the  very  best.  Two  cabinet 
ministers  duelling  on  Cabinet  measures  like  drunken 
Irishmen.  O  heaven,  Poole !  this  is  wringing  the  dregs 
in  order  to  drink  the  last  drops  of  degTadation.  Such 
base  insensibility  to  the  awfulness  of  their  situation  and 
the  majesty  of  the  country  !  As  soon  as  I  can  get  them 
transcribed,  I  will  send  you  some  most  interesting  letters 
from  the  ablest  soldier  I  ever  met  with  (extra  aide-de- 
camp to  Sir  J.  Moore,  and  shot  through  the  body  at 
Flushing,  but  still  alive)  ;  they  will  serve  as  a  key  to 
more  than  one  woe-trumpet  in  the  Apocalypse  of  national 
calamity.  But  the  truth  is,  that  to  combine  a  govern- 
ment every  way  fitted  as  ours  is  for  quiet,  justice,  free- 
dom, and  commercial  activity  at  liome,  with  the  conditions 
of  raising  up  that  individual  greatness,  and  of  securing  in 
every  department  the  very  man  for  the  very  place,  which 
are  requisite  for  maintaining  the  safety  of  our  Empire 
and  the  Majesty  of  our  power  abroad,  is  a  state-riddle 
which  yet  remains  to  be  solved.  I  have  thought  myself 
as  well  employed  as  a  private  citizen  can  be,  in  drawing 
oflp  well-intentioned  patriots  from  the  wrong  scent  and 
pointing  out  ti'liat^  the  true  evils  are  and  xi^lnj^  and  the 
exceeding  difficidty  of  removing  them  without  hazarding 
worse.  ...  I  was  asked  for  a  motto  for  a  market  clock. 
I  uttered  the  following  literally,  without  a  moment's  pre- 
meditation :  — 

Wliat  now,  O  man  !  thou  dost  or  mean'st  to  do 
"Will  help  to  give  thee  peace,  or  make  thee  rue, 
"When  hovering  o'er  the  Dot  tliis  liand  shall  tell 
The  moment  that  secures  thee  Heaven  or  Hell? 

^  For  extracts  from  Poole's  narra-  narrative  into  verse,  but  was  dissat- 

tive  of   John    Walford,  see    Thomas  isfied  with  the  resiilt.    His  lines  have 

Poole  and  his  Friends,  ii.   2.35-2.'57.  never  been  published. 
Wordsworth  endeavoured  to  put  the         ^  h_  j,^_  Coleridge  included  these 


554  GRASMERE  AND   THE  FRIEND  [Dec. 

ISIay  God  bless  you !  IVIy  kindest  remembrances  to 
Mr.  Chubl),  and  to  Ward.  Pray  remember  me  when  you 
write  to  your  sister  and  jSIr.  Kini^.  Oh,  but  Poole !  do 
stretch  a  point  and  come.  If  the  F.  rises  to  a  1,000  I 
will  frank  you.  Do  come ;  never  will  you  have  layed  out 
money  better. 

CLXXVII.    TO   ROBERT   SOUTIIEY. 

December,  1809. 

My  dear  Soutiiey,  —  I  suspect  you  have  misunder- 
stood me,  and  applied  to  the  Maltese  Regiment  what  I 
said  of  the  Corsican  Hangers.  Both  are  bad  enough,  but 
of  the  former  I  know  little,  of  course,  as  I  was  away  from 
Malta  before  the  regiment  had  left  the  island.  But  in 
the  Essays  (2  or  3)  which  I  am  now  writing  on  Sir  A. 
Ball,  I  shall  mention  it  as  an  exemplification  among  many 
others  of  his  foresight.  It  was  a  job,  I  have  no  doubt, 
merely  to  get  General  Valette  a  lucrative  regiment ;  but 
G.  V.  is  dead,  and  it  was  not  such  a  job  as  that  of  the 
Corsican  Rangers,  which  can  be  made  appear  glaring. 
The  long  and  short  of  the  story  is,  that  the  men  were 
four  fifths  married,  would  have  fought  as  well  as  the  best, 
at  home,  and  behind  their  own  walls,  but  could  not  be  ex- 
pected to  fight  abroad,  where  they  had  ne  interest.  Be- 
sides, it  was  cruel.,  shameful  to  take  1,500  men  as  soldiers 
for  any  part  of  our  enormous  Empire,  out  of  a  popula- 
tion, man,  w^oman,  and  child,  not  at  that  time  more  than 
100,000.  There  were  two  Maltese  Militia  Regiments 
officered  by  their  own  Maltese  nobility  —  these  against 
the  entreaties  and  tears  of  the  men  and  officers  (I  myself 
saw  them  weeping),  against  the  remonstrances  and  memo- 
rial (written  by  myself)  of  Sir  A.  B.,  were  melted  into 

lines,  as  they  appear  in  a  note-book,  can    be    no    doubt    that    Coleritlge 

among  the   Omntana  of  1809-1816.  wrote,    "  On    a   clock  in    a    market 

They  are  heatled  incorrectly,  "In-  place  (proposed)."     Table  Talk,  etc., 

scription  on  a  Clock  in  Cheapside."  1884,    p.   401  ;    Poetical   Works,    p. 

The  MS.  is  not  very  legible,  but  there  181. 


1809]  TO   ROBERT  SOUTHEY  555 

one  large  one,  officered  by  English  officers,  and  a  general 
affront  given  to  the  island,  because  General  Valette  had 
gi-eat  friends  at  the  War  Office,  Duke  of  York,  etc. ! 
This  is  the  whole,  but  do  not  either  expose  yourself  or  me 
to  judicial  inquiries.  It  is  one  thing  to  know  a  thing, 
and  another  to  be  able  to  jyrove  it  in  a  law  court.  This 
remark  applies  to  the  damnahle  treatment  of  the  prisoners 
of  war  at  Malta. 

I  should  have  thought  your  facts,  with  which  I  am 
familiar,  a  confirmation  of  Miss  Schoning.^  Be  that  as  it 
may,  take  my  word  for  it,  that  in  substance  the  story  is 
as  certain  as  that  Dr.  Dodd  was  hung.  To  mention  one 
proof  only.  Von  Hess,^  the  celebrated  historian  of  Ham- 
burg, and,  since  Lessing,  the  best  German  prosist,  went 
himself  to  Nuremberg,  examined  into  the  facts  officially 
and  personally,  and  it  was  on  him  that  I  relied,  though  if 
you  knew  the  government  of  Nuremberg,  you  would  see 
that  the  first  account  could  not  have  been  published  as  it 
was,  if  it  had  not  been  too  notorious  even  for  conceal- 
ment to  be  hoped  for.  After  I  left  Germany,  Von  Hess 
had  a  public  controversy  that  threatened  to  become  a  Diet 
concern  with  the  magistrates  of  Nuremberg,  for  some 
other  bitter  charges  against  them.  I  have  their  defence 
of  themselves,  but"  they  do  not  even  attempt  to  deny  the 
fact  of  Harlin  and  Schdning.  But,  indeed,  Southey !  it 
is  almost  as  bad  as  if  I  could  have  mistaken  e  converso 
Patch's  trial  for  a  novel. 

Your  remark  on  the  voice  is  most  just,  but  that  was  my 

^  The   story  of    Maria   Eleanora  and  the  beautiful  illustration  of  the 

Schoning'  appeared  in  No.  13  of  TAe  "withered  leaf"   were   allowed   to 

Friend,    Thni-sday,    November    10,  remain    unaltered,    and    appear   in 

]80t>,  pp.  1U4-208.    It  was  reprinted  every  edition.      Coleridge's    ]\'orks, 

as  the  "  Second  Landinrr  Place  "  in  1853,  ii.  312-326. 

the  revised   edition  of   The  Friend,  ^  Jonas   Lewis   von    ITess,    1766- 

published  in  1818.     The  somewhat  1823.     He  was  a  friend  and   pupil 

laboured  description  of  the  lieroine's  of  Kant,  and  author  of  A  History  of 

voice,    which    displeased    Southey,  Uamburg. 


556  GRASMERE   AND   THE   FRIEND  [Jan. 

]nir]iosc.  Not  only  so,  but  the  rcliolc  passage  was  in- 
serted, anil  intertnulecl  after  the  rest  was  written,  rcluc- 
tante  amanuensi  med,  in  order  to  unrealize  it  even  at  the 
expense  of  f//i!naturalizing-  it.  Lady  B.  therefore  pleased 
me  by  saying,  "  never  was  the  golden  tint  of  the  poet 
more  judieiously  employed,"  etc.  For  this  reason,  too,  I 
introduced  the  simile  of  the  leaf,  etc.,  etc.  I  not  only 
thought  the  "  voice  "  part  out  of  place,  but  in  bad  taste 
2)er  se. 

May  God  bless  you  all. 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CLXXVIII.    TO   THOMAS   POOLE. 

Grasmere,  Kendal,  January  28,  1810. 
My  dear  Friend,  —  My  "  manti-aps  and  spring  guns 
in  this  garden"  have  hitherto  existed  only  in  the  painted 
board,  in  terrorem.  Of  course,  I  have  received  and 
thank  you  for  both  your  letters.  What  Wordsworth  may 
do  I  do  not  know,  but  I  think  it  highly  probable  that  I 
shall  settle  in  or  near  London.  Of  the  fate  of  "  The 
Friend  "  I  remain  in  the  same  ignorance  nearly  as  at  the 
publication  of  the  20th  November.  It  would  make  you 
sick  were  I  to  waste  my  paper  by  detailing  the  numerous 
instances  of  meanness  in  the  mode  of  payment  and  dis- 
continuance, esjjecially  among  the  Quakers.  So  just  was 
the  answer  I  once  made  in  the  presence  of  some  "  Friends  " 
to  the  query:  What  is  genuine  Quakerism?  'Answer, 
The  antithesis  of  the  present  Quakers.  I  have  received 
this  evening  together  with  yours,  one  as  a  specimen. 
(N.  B.  Three  days  after  the  publication  of  the  21st  Num- 
ber, and  sixteen  days  after  the  publication  of  the  "  Super- 
numerary "  [number  of  "The  Friend,"  January  11, 1810], 
a  bill  upon  a  postmaster,  an  order  of  discontinuance,  and 
information  that  any  others  that  may  come  will  not  be 
paid  for,  as  if  I  had  been  gifted  with  prophecy.  And  this 
precious  epistle  directed,  "  To  Thomas  Coleridge,  of  Graze- 


1810]  TO   THOMAS  POOLE  657 

mar "  !      And  yet    this  Mr.  would    think    himself 

libelled,  if  he  were  called  a  dishonest  man.)  .  .  .  We  will 
take  for  granted  that  "  The  Friend  "  can  be  continued. 
On  this  suj^position  I  have  lately  studied  "  The  Specta- 
tor," and  with  increasing  pleasure  and  admiration.  Yet 
it  must  be  evident  to  you  that  there  is  a  class  of  thoughts 
and  feelings,  and  these,  too,  the  most  important,  even 
practically,  which  it  would  be  impossible  to  convey  in 
the  manner  of  Addison,  and  which,  if  Addison  had  pos- 
sessed, he  would  not  have  been  Addison.  Read,  for 
instance,  Milton's  prose  tracts,  and  only  ti'y  to  conceive 
them  translated  into  the  style  of  "The  Sjiectator,"  or 
the  finest  part  of  Wordsworth's  pamphlet.  It  would  be 
less  absurd  to  wish  that  the  serious  Odes  of  Horace  had 
been  written  in  the  same  style  as  his  Satires  and  Epis- 
tles. Consider,  too,  the  very  different  objects  of  "  The 
Friend,"  and  of  "  The  Spectator,"  and  above  all  do  not 
forget,  that  these  are  aweful  times!  that  the  love  of 
reading  as  a  refined  pleasure,  weaning  the  mind  from 
GROSSER  enjoyments,  which  it  was  one  of  "  The  Specta- 
tor's" chief  objects  to  awaken,  has  by  that  work,  and 
those  that  followed  (Connoisseur,  World,  Mirror,  etc.), 
but  still  more,  by  Newspapers,  Magazines,  and  Novels, 
been  carried  into  excess  :  and  "  The  Spectator  "  itself  has 
innocently  contributed  to  the  general  taste  for  uncon- 
nected writing,  just  as  if  "  Reading  made  easy  "  should 
act  to  give  men  an  aversion  to  words  of  more  than  two 
syllables,  instead  of  drawing  them  through  those  words 
into  the  power  of  reading  books  in  general.  In  the  pres- 
ent age,  whatever  flatters  the  mind  in  its  ignorance  of  its 
ignorance,  tends  to  aggravate  that  ignorance,  and,  I  ap- 
prehend, does  on  the  whole  do  more  harm  than  good. 
Have  you  read  the  debate  on  the  Address?  What  a 
melancholy  picture  of  the  intellectual  feebleness  of  the 
country !  So  much  on  the  one  side  of  the  question.  On 
the  other  (1)  I  will,  preparatory  to  writing  on  any  chosen 


558  GRASMERE  AND  THE  FRIEND  [Jan. 

subject,  consuk'i-  whether  it  can  be  treated  popularly,  and 
with  that  lightui-ss  aud  variety  of  illustration  which  form 
the  charms  of  ''  The  Spectator."  If  it  can,  I  will  do  my 
best.  If  not,  next,  whether  yet  there  may  not  be  fur- 
nished by  the  remits  of  such  an  Essay  thoughts  and 
truths  that  may  be  so  treated,  and  form  a  second  Essay. 
(3)  I  sliall  always,  besides  this,  have  at  least  one  number 
in  four  of  rational  entertainment,  such  as  "  Satyrane's 
Letters,"  as  instructive  as  I  can,  but  yet  making  entertain- 
ment the  chief  object  in  my  own  mind.  But,  lastly,  in 
the  Supplement  of  "  The  Friend  "  I  shall  endeavour  to 
include  whatever  of  higher  and  more  abstruse  meditation 
may  be  needed  as  the  foundations  of  all  the  work  after  it ; 
and  the  difference  between  those  who  will  read  and  mas- 
ter that  Supplement,  and  those  who  decline  the  toil,  will 
be  simply  this,  that  what  to  the  former  will  be  demon- 
strated conclusions,  the  latter  must  start  from  as  from 
postulates,  and  (to  all  whose  minds  have  not  been  sophis- 
ticated by  a  half -philosophy)  axioms.  For  no  two  things, 
that  are  yet  different,  can  be  in  closer  harmony  than  the 
deductions  of  a  profound  pliilosoi)hy,  and  the  dictates  of 
plain  common  sense.  Whatever  tenets  are  obscure  in 
the  one,  and  recpiiring  the  greatest  powers  of  abstraction 
to  reconcile,  are  the  same  which  are  held  in  manifest  con- 
tradiction by  the  common  sense,  and  yet  held  and  fii-ndy 
believed,  without  sacrificing  A  to  — A,  or  — A  to  A. 
.  .  .  After  this  work  I  shall  endeavour  to  pitch  my  note  to 
the  idea  of  a  common,  w^ell-educated,  thoughtful  man,  of 
ordinary  talents ;  and  the  exceptions  to  this  rule  shall  not 
form  more  than  one  fifth  of  the  work.  If  with  all  this  it 
will  not  do,  well!  And  well  it  will  be,  in  its  noblest 
sense :  for  /  shall  have  done  my  best.  Of  parentheses  I 
may  be  too  fond,  and  will  be  on  my  guard  in  this  respect. 
But  I  am  certain  that  no  work  of  impassioned  and  elo- 
quent reasoning  ever  did  or  could  subsist  without  them. 
They  are  the  drama  of  reason,  and   present  the  thought 


1810]  TO  THOMAS  POOLE  559 

growing,  instead  of  a  mere  Hortus  siccus.  The  aversion 
to  tliem  is  one  of  the  numberless  symptoms  of  a  feeble 
Frenchified  Public.  One  other  observation  :  I  have  rea- 
son to  hope  for  contributions  from  strangers.  Some  from 
you  I  rely  on,  and  these  will  give  a  variety  which  is  highly 
desirable  —  so  much  so,  that  it  would  weigh  with  me 
even  to  the  admission  of  many  things  from  unknown  cor- 
respondents, though  but  little  above  mediocrity,  if  they 
were  proportionately  short,  and  on  subjects  which  I  should 
not  myself  treat.  .  .  . 

May  God  bless  you,  and  your  affectionate 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 


CHAPTER  XI 

A  JOURNALIST,  A  LECTURER,  A  PLAYWRIGHT 

1810-1813 


CHAPTER  XI 

A  JOURNALIST,   A   LECTURER,   A   PLAYWRIGHT 

1810-1813 
» 

CLXXIX.     TO   HIS   WIFE. 

Spring,  1810. 

My  DEAR  Love,  —  I  imcTerstand  that  Mr.  De  Quincey 
is  going  to  Keswick  to-morrow ;  though  between  ourselves 
he  is  as  great  a  to-morroioer  to  the  full  as  your  poor  hus- 
band, and  without  his  excuses  of  anxiety  from  latent  dis- 
ease and  external  pressure. 

Now  as  Lieutenant  Southey  is  with  you,  I  fear  that  you 
could  not  find  a  bed  for  me  if  I  came  in  on  Monday  or 
Tuesday.  I  not  only  am  desirous  to  be  with  you  and  Sara 
for  a  while,  but  it  would  be  of  great  importance  to  me  to 
be  within  a  post  of  Penrith  for  the  next  fortnight  or  three 
weeks.  How  long  Mr.  De  Quincey  may  stay  I  cannot 
guess.  He  (Miss  Wordsworth  says)  talks  of  a  week,  but 
Lloyd  of  a  month  !  However,  put  yourself  to  no  violence 
of  inconvenience,  only  be  sure  to  write  to  me  (N.  B.  —  to 
me)  by  the  carrier  to-morrow. 

I  am  middling,  but  the  state  of  my  spirit  of  itself  re- 
quires a  change  of  scene.  Catherine  W.  [the  Words- 
worths'  little  daughter]  has  not  recovered  the  use  of  her 
arm,  etc.,  but  is  evidently  recovering  it,  and  in  all  other 
respects  in  better  health  than  before,  —  indeed,  so  much 
better  as  to  confirm  my  former  opinion  that  nature  was 
weak  In  her,  and  can  more  easily  supply  vital  power  for 
two  thirds  of  her  nervous  system  than  for  the  whole. 
May  God  bless  you,  my  dear !  and 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 


5G4       JOURNALIST,  LECTURER,  PLAYWRIGHT    [March 

ITartloy  looks  and  behaves  all  that  the  fondest  parent 
could  wish.  He  is  really  handsome  ;  at  least  as  handsome 
as  a  face  so  original  and  intellectual  can  be.  And  Der- 
went  is  "  a  nice  little  fellow,"  and  no  lack-wit  either.  I 
read  to  Hartley  out  of  the  German  a  series  of  very  mas- 
terlv  ari^umcnts  concerning'  the  startling  gross  improbabil- 
ities of  Esther  (fourteen  improbabilities  are  stated).  It 
really  surprised  me,  the  acuteness  and  steadiness  of  judg- 
ment with  which  he  answered  more  than  half,  weakened 
many,  and  at  last  determined  that  two  only  were  not  to  be 
got  over.  I  then  read  for  myself  and  afterwards  to  him 
Eichhorn's  solution  of  the  fourteen,  and  the  coincidences 
were  surprising.  Indeed,  Eichhorn,  after  a  lame  attempt, 
was  obliged  to  give  up  the  two  which  H.  had  declared  as 
despei'ate. 

CLXXSf.     TO   THE  MORGANS. 

December  21,  "1810." 

My  dear  Friends,  —  I  am  at  present  at  Brown's  Cof- 
fee House,  Mitre  Court,  Elect  Street.  My  objects  are  to 
settle  something  by  which  I  can  secure  a  certain  sum 
weekly,  sufficient  for  lodging,  maintenance,  and  physician's 
fees,  and  in  the  mean  time  to  look  out  for  a  suitable  place 
near  Gray's  Inn.  My  immediate  plan  is  not  to  trouble 
myself  further  about  any  introduction  to  Abernethy,  but 
to  write  a  plain,  honest,  and  full  account  of  my  state,  its 
history,  causes,  and  occasions,  and  to  send  it  to  him  with 
two  or  three  pounds  enclosed,  and  asking  him  to  take  me 
under  his  further  care.  If  I  have  raised  the  money  for 
the  enclosure,  this  I  shall  do  to-morrow.  For,  indeed,  it 
is  not  only  useless  but  imkind  and  ungi-atef  ul  to  you  and 
all  who  love  me,  to  trifle  on  any  longer,  depressing  your 
spirits,  and,  spite  of  myself,  gradually  alienating  your 
esteem  and  chilling  your  affection  toward  me.  As  soon 
as  I  have  heard  from  Abernethy,  I  Avill  walk  over  to  you, 
and  spend  a  few  days  before  I  enter  into  my  lodging,  and 


1811]  TO  W.   GODWIN  565 

on  my  dread  ordeal  —  as  some  kind-hearted  Catholics 
have  taught,  that  the  soul  is  carried  slowly  along  close  by 
the  walls  of  Paradise  on  its  way  to  Purgatory,  and  permit- 
ted to  breathe  in  some  snatches  of  blissful  airs,  in  order 
to  strengthen  its  endurance  during  its  fiery  trial  by  the 
foretaste  of  what  awaits  it  at  the  conclusion  and  final  gaol- 
delivery. 

I  pray  you,  therefore,  send  me  immediately  all  my  books 
and  papers  with  such  of  my  linen  as  may  be  clean,  in  my 
box,  by  the  errand  cart,  directed  — "  Mr.  Coleridge, 
Brown's  Coffee  House,  Mitre  Court,  Fleet  Street."  A 
couple  of  nails  and  a  rope  will  sufficiently  secure  the  box. 

Dear,  dear  Mary !  Dearest  Charlotte  !  I  entreat  you 
to  believe  me,  that  if  at  any  time  my  manner  toward  you 
has  appeared  unlike  myself,  this  has  arisen  wholly  either 
from  a  sense  of  self-dissatisfaction  or  from  apprehension 
of  having  given  you  offence ;  for  at  no  time  and  on  no 
occasion  did  I  ever  see  or  imagine  anything  in  your  behav- 
iour which  did  not  awaken  the  purest  and  most  affection- 
ate esteem,  and  (if  I  do  not  grossly  deceive  myself)  the 
sincerest  gratitude.  Indeed,  indeed,  my  affection  is  both 
deep  and  strong  toward  you,  and  such  too  that  I  am  proud 
of  it. 

"  And  looking  towards  the  Heaven  that  bends  ahove  you, 
Full  oft  I  bless  the  lot  that  made  me  love  you !  " 

Again  and  again  and  for  ever  may  God  bless  and  love 
you.  S.  T.  Coleridge. 

J.  J.  Morgan,  Esq.,  No.  7,  Portland  Place,  Hammersmith. 

CLXXXI.    TO   W.    GODWIN. 

March  1.5,  1811. 

My  dear  Godwin,  —  I  receive  twice  the  pleasure 
from  my  recovery  that  it  would  have  otherwise  afforded, 
as  it  enables  me  to  accept  your  kind  invitation,  which  in 
this  instance  I  might  with  perfect  propriety  and  manliness 
thank  you  for,  as  an  honour  done  to  me.     To  sit  at  the 


5G6        JOURNALIST,  LECTURER,  PLAYWRIGHT      [June 

same  table  with  G rattan,  who  would  not  think  it  a  mem- 
orable honour,  a  red  letter  day  in  the  almanac  of  his  life  ? 
No  one  certainly  who  is  in  any  degree  worthy  of  it. 
Rather  than  not  be  in  the  same  room,  I  could  be  well 
content  to  wait  at  the  table  at  which  I  was  not  permitted 
to  sit,  and  this  not  merely  for  Grattan's  undoubted  great 
talents,  and  still  less  from  any  entire  accordance  with  his 
political  opinions,  but  because  his  great  talents  are  the 
tools  and  vehicles  of  his  genius,  and  all  his  speeches  are 
attested  by  that  constant  accompaniment  of  true  genius,  a 
certain  moral  bearing,  a  moral  dignity.  His  love  of  lib- 
erty has  no  snatch  of  the  mob  in  it. 

Assure  Mrs.  Godwin  of  my  anxious  wishes  respecting 
her  health.     The  scholar  Salernitanus  ^  says  :  — 

"Si  tibi  deficiant  medici,  medici  tibi  fiant 
Hsec  tria :  mens  hilaris,  requies,  moderata  diaeta." 

The  regulated  diet  she  already  has,  and  now  she  must 
contrive  to  call  in  the  two  other  doctors.  God  bless 
you. 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CLXXXII.    TO   DANIEL   STUART. 

Tuesday,  June  4,  1811. 

Dear  Stuart,  —  I  brought  your  umbrella  in  with  me 
yester-morning,  but,  having  forgotten  it  at  leaving  Port- 
land Place,  sent  the  coachman  back  for  it,  who  brought 
what  aj>peared  to  me  not  the  same.  On  returning,  how- 
ever, with  it,  I  couhl  find  no  other,  and  it  is  certainly  as 
gootl  or  better,  but  looks  to  me  as  if  it  were  not  equally 
new,  and  as  if  it  had  far  more  silk  in  it.  I  will,  however, 
leave  it  at  Brompton,  and  if  by  any  inexplicable  circum- 
stance it  should  not  prove  the  same,  you  must  be  content 
with  the  substitute.     The  family  at  Portland  Place  caught 

^  John  of  Milan,  who  flourished  "  versibus  Leoninis,"  a  poem  enti- 
1100  A.  D.,  was  the  author  of  Medi-  tied  Flos  Medicince.  Hoffmann's  iex- 
cina  iSalcrnitana.    He  also  composed     icon  Universale,  art.  "  Salernum." 


1811]  TO  DANIEL  STUART  567 

at  my  doubts  as  to  the  identity  of  it.  I  had  hoped  to 
have  seen  you  this  morning,  it  being  a  leisurely  time  in 
respect  of  fresh  tidings,  to  have  submitted  to  you  two 
Essays,^  one  on  the  Catholic  Question,  and  the  other  on 
Parliamentary  Reform,  addressed  as  a  letter  (from  a  cor- 
respondent) to  the  noblemen  and  members  of  Parliament 
who  had  associated  for  this  purpose.  The  former  does 
not  exceed  two  columns ;  the  latter  is  somewhat  lonsrer. 
But  after  the  middle  of  this  month  it  is  probable  that  the 
Paper  will  be  more  open  to  a  series  of  Articles  on  less 
momentary,  though  still  contemj)orary,  interests.  Mr. 
Street  seems  highly  pleased  with  what  I  have  written  this 
morning  on  the  battle  ^  of  the  16th  (May),  though  I  ap- 
prehend the  whole  cannot  be  inserted.  I  am  as  I  ought 
to  be,  most  cautious  and  shy  in  recommending  anything ; 
otherwise,  I  should  have  requested  Mr.  Street  to  give 
insertion  to  the  paragraphs  respecting  Holland,  and  the 
nature  of  Buonaparte's  resources,  ending  with  the  neces- 
sity of  ever  re-fuelling  the  moral  feelings  of  the  people,  as 
to  the  monstrosity  of  the  giant  fiend  that  menaces  them  ; 
[with  an]  allusion  to  Judge  Grose's  opinion"^  on  Drakard^ 
before  the  occasion  had  passed  away  from  the  public  mem- 
ory. So,  too,  if  the  Duke's  return  is  to  be  discussed  at  all, 
the  Article  should  be  published  before  Lord  Milton's  mo- 
tion.^    For  though  in  a  complex  and  widely  controverted 

^  Three   letters   on   the   Catholic  is  an  act  so  monstrous,"  etc.    "  Buon- 

Question   appeared   in   the  Courier,  aparte,"    Courier,    June   29,    1811 ; 

September  3,  21,  and  26,  1811.     Es-  Essays  on  His  Own  Times,  iii.  818. 
says  on  His  Own  Times,  iii.  891-890,         *  John   Drakard,    the  printer   of 

920-932.  the   Stamford  News,  was  convicted 

2  The  Battle  of  Alhuera.     Arti-  at   Lincoln,  May  25,    1811,    of   the 

cles  on  the  battle  appeared  in  the  publication   of    an    article    against 

Courier   on   June    5    and   8,    1811.  flogg-ing  in  the  army,  and  sentenced 

Essays  on  His  Own   Times,  iii.  802-  to  a  fine  and  imprisonment. 
805.  ^  Lord  Milton,  one  of  the  mem- 

^  "  That  a  Judge  should  have  re-  hers  for  Yorkshire,  brought  forward 

garded  as  an  aggravation  of  a  libel  a  motion  on  June  6,  1811,  against 

on  the    British  Army,  the  writer's  the  reappointment  of  the   Duke  of 

having  written  against  Buonaparte,  York  as  Commander-in-Chief. 


568        JOURNALIST,  LECTURER,  PLAYWRIGHT      [June 

question,  whore  huiulrcds  rush  into  the  field  of  combat, 
it  is  wise  to  defer  it  till  the  Debates  in  Parliament  have 
shown  what  the  arguments  are  on  which  most  stress  is  laid 
by  men  in  common,  as  in  the  Bullion  Dispute ;  yet,  gener- 
ally, it  is  a  great  honour  to  the  London  ])apers,  that  for  one 
argument  they  borrow  from  the  parliamentary  speakers, 
the  latter  borrow  two  from  them,  at  all  events  are  cmti- 
cipatcd  by  them.  But  the  true  prudential  rule  is,  to  defer 
only  when  any  effect  of  freshnens  or  novelty  is  impracti- 
cable ;  but  in  most  other  cases  to  consider  freshness  of 
effect  as  the  point  which  belongs  to  a  iVetwspaper  and  dis- 
tinguishes it  from  a  library  book ;  the  former  being  the 
Zenith,  and  the  latter  the  Nadir,  with  a  number  of  inter- 
mediate degrees,  occupied  by  pamplilets,  magazines,  re- 
views, satirical  and  occasional  poems,  etc.,  etc.  Besides, 
in  a  daily  newspaper,  with  advertisements  proportioned  to 
its  sale,  what  is  deferred  must,  four  times  in  five,  be  extin- 
guished. A  newspaper  is  a  market  for  flowers  and  vege- 
tables, rather  than  a  granary  or  conservatory ;  and  the 
drawer  of  its  editor,  a  common  burial  ground,  not  a  cata- 
comb for  embalmed  mummies,  in  which  the  defunct  are 
preserved  to  serve  in  after  times  as  medicines  for  the  liv- 
ing. To  turn  from  the  Paper  to  myself,  as  candidate  for 
the  place  of  auxiliary  to  it.  I  drew,  with  Mr.  Street's  con- 
sent and  order,  ten  pounds,  which  I  shall  repay  during  the 
week  as  soon  as  I  can  see  Mr.  Monkhouse  of  Budge  Kow, 
who  has  collected  that  sum  for  me.  This,  therefore,  I  put 
wholly  aside,  and  indeed  expect  to  replace  it  with  Mr. 
Green  to-morrow  morning.  Besides  this  I  have  had  five 
pounds  from  Mr.  Green, ^  chiefly  for  the  purposes  of  coach 
hire.  All  at  once  I  could  not  venture  to  walk  in  the  heat 
and  other  accidents  of  weather  from  Hammersmith  to  the 
Office ;  but  hereafter  I  intend,  if  I  continue  here,  to  return 
on  foot,  which  will  reduce  my  coach  hire  for  the  week  from 

^  Clerk  of  the  Courier,    Letter  to  Gentleman's  Magazine,  June,  1838,  p. 
586. 


1811]  TO  DANIEL  STUART  669 

eighteen  shillings  to  nine  shillings.  But  to  walk  in,  I 
know,  would  take  off  all  the  blossom  and  fresh  fruits  of 
my  si^irits.  I  trust  that  I  need  not  say,  how  pleasant  it 
would  be  to  me,  if  it  were  in  my  power  to  consider  every- 
thing I  could  do  for  the  "  Courier,"  as  a  mere  return  for 
the  pecuniary,  as  well  as  other  obligations  I  am  under  to 
you ;  in  short  as  working  off  old  scores.  But  you  know 
how  I  am  situated ;  and  that  by  the  daily  labour  of  the 
brain  I  must  acquire  the  daily  demands  of  the  other  parts 
of  the  body.  And  it  now  becomes  necessary  that  I  shoidd 
form  some  settled  system  for  my  support  in  London,  and 
of  course  know  what  my  weekly  or  monthly  means  may 
be.  Respecting  the  "  Courier,"  I  consider  you  not  merely 
as  a  private  friend,  but  as  the  Co-proprietor  of  a  large 
concern,  in  which  it  is  your  duty  to  regulate  yourself 
with  relation  to  the  interests  of  that  concern,  and  of  your 
partner  in  it ;  and  so  take  for  granted,  and,  indeed,  wish 
no  other,  than  that  you  and  he  should  weigh  whether  or 
no  I  can  be  of  any  material  use  to  a  Paper  already  so 
flourishing,  and  an  Evening  Paper.  For,  all  mock  humil- 
ity out  of  the  question  (and  when  I  write  to  you,  every 
other  sort  of  insincerity),  I  see  that  such  services  as  I 
might  be  able  to  afford,  would  be  more  important  to  a 
rising  than  to  a  risen  Paper  ;  to  a  morning,  perhaps,  more 
than  to  an  evening  one.  You  will  however  decide,  after 
the  experience  hitherto  afforded,  and  modifying  it  by  the 
temporary  circumstances  of  debates,  press  of  foreign  news, 
etc. ;  how  far  I  can  be  of  actual  use  by  my  attendance,  in 
order  to  help  in  the  things  of  the  day,  as  ai-e  the  para- 
graphs, which  I  have  for  the  most  part  hitherto  been 
called  [upon]  to  contribute  ;  and,  by  my  efforts,  to  sustain 
the  literary  character  of  the  Paper,  by  large  articles,  on 
open  days,  and  [at]  more  leisure  times. 

My  dear  Stuart !  knowing  the  foolish  mental  cowardice 
with  which  I  slink  off  from  all  pecuniary  subjects,  and 
the  particular  weight  I  must  feel  from  the  sense  of  exist- 


570        JOURNALIST,  LECTURER,  PLAYWRIGHT       [Dec. 

ing  obligations  to  you,  you  will  be  convinced  that  my  only 
motive  is  the  desire  of  settling  with  others  such  a  plan 
for  myself,  as  may,  by  setting  my  mind  at  rest,  enable 
me  to  realize  whatever  powers  I  possess,  to  as  much  satis- 
faction to  those  who  employ  them,  and  to  my  own  sense 
of  duty,  as  possible.  If  Mr.  Street  should  think  tliat 
the  "  Courier "  does  not  require  any  auxiliary,  I  shall 
then  rely  on  your  kindness,  for  putting  me  in  the  way  of 
some  other  paper,  the  principles  of  which  are  sufficiently 
in  accordance  with  my  own  ;  for  while  cabbage  stalks  rot 
on  dung  hills,  I  will  never  write  what,  or  for  what,  I  do 
not  think  right.  All  that  prudence  can  justify  is  not  to 
write  what  at  certain  times  one  may  yet  think.  God  bless 
you  and 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CLXXXIII.      TO   SIR   G.   BEAUMONT. 

J.  J.  Morgan's,  Esq.,  7,  Portland  Place,  Hammersmith, 
Saturday  morning,  December  7,  1811. 

Dear  Sir  George,  —  On  Wednesday  night  I  slept  in 
town  in  order  to  have  a  mask^  taken,  from  which,  or 

1  Many  years  after  the  date  of  that  a  death-mask  had  been  taken 
this  letter,  Dr.  Spurzheim  took  a  life-  of  the  poet's  features.  "Whether 
mask  of  Coleridge's  face,  and  used  it  this  served  as  a  model  for  a  posthu- 
as  a  model  for  a  bust  which  origi-  mous  bust,  or  not,  I  am  unable  to 
nally  belonged  to  H.  N.  Coleridge,  say.  In  the  curious  and  valuable 
and  is  now  in  the  Library  at  Heath's  article  on  death-masks  which  Mr. 
Court,  Ottery  St.  Mary.  Another  bust  Laurence  Hutton  contributed  to  the 
of  Coleridge,  very  similar  to  Spurz-  October  number  of  Uarper''s  Maga- 
heim's,  belonged  to  my  father,  and  zine,  for  1892,  he  gives  a  fac-simile 
is  still  in  the  possession  of  the  fam-  of  a  death-mask  which  was  said  to 
ily.  I  have  been  told  that  it  was  be  that  of  S.  T.  Coleridge.  At  the 
taken  from  a  death-mask,  but  as  time  that  I  wrote  to  him  on  the 
Mr.  Hamo  Thomycroft,  who  de-  subject,  I  had  not  seen  Henry  Cole- 
signed  the  bust  for  Westminster  Ab-  ridge's  letter,  but  I  came  to  the  con- 
bey,  pointed  out  to  me,  it  abounds  elusion  that  this  sad  memorial  of 
in  anatomical  defects.  In  a  letter  death  was  genuine.  The  "  glorious 
wliich  Henry  Coleridge  wrote  to  his  forehead  "  is  there,  but  the  look  has 
father,  Colonel  Coleridge,  on  the  passed  away,  and  the  "  rest  is  si- 
day  of  his  uncle's   death,  he   says  lence."     With  regard    to  Allston's 


1811]  TO  SIR  G.   BEAUMONT  571 

rather  with  which,  Allston  means  to  model  a  bust  of  me. 
I  did  not,  therefore,  receive  your  letter  and  the  enclosed 
till  Thm-sday  night,  eleven  o'clock,  on  my  return  from 
the  lecture ;  and  early  on  Friday  morning,  I  was  roused 
from  my  first  sleep  by  an  agony  of  toothache,  which  con- 
tinued almost  without  intermission  the  whole  day,  and 
has  left  my  head  and  the  whole  of  my  trmik,  "  not  a  man 
but  a  bruise."  ^  What  can  I  say  more,  my  dear  Sir 
George,  than  that  I  deeply  feel  the  proof  of  your  contin- 
ued friendship,  and  pray  from  my  inmost  soul  that  more 
perseverance  in  efforts  of  duty  may  render  me  more  wor- 
thy of  your  kindness  than  I  at  present  am  ?  Ingratitude, 
like  all  crimes  that  are  at  the  same  time  vices  —  bad  as 
malady,  and  worse  as  sym23tom  —  is  of  so  detestable  a  na- 
ture that  an  honest  man  will  mourn  in  silence  under  real 
injuries,  [rather]  than  hazard  the  very  suspicion  of  it, 
and  will  be  slow  to  avail  himself  of  Lord  Bacon's  remark  ^ 
(much  as  he  may  admire  its  profundity),  —  "Crimen 
ingrati  animi,  quod  niagnis  ingeniis  hand  raro  objicitur, 
saepius  nil  aliud  est  quam  perspicacia  quaedam  in  causam 
beneficii  collati."  Yet  that  man  has  assuredly  tenfold 
reason  to  be  grateful  who  can  be  so,  both  head  and  heart, 
who,  at  once  served  and  honoured,  knows  himself  more 
delighted  by  the  motive  that  influenced  his  friend  than 
by  the  benefit  received  by  himself ;  were  it  only  perhaps 
for  this  cause  —  that  the  consciousness  of  always  repay- 
ing the  former  in  kind  takes  away  all  regret  that  he  is 
incapable  of  returning  the  latter. 

bust  of  Coleridg'e,  which  was  exhib-  the  morning-  a  bruise."     Table  Talk, 

ited  at  the  Royal  Academy  in  1812,  etc.,  Bell  &  Co.,  1884,  p.  231,  note. 
I  possess  no  information.     See  Har-         -  "  Crimen  ingrati  animi  nil  aliud 

per's  Magazine,  October,   1892,    pp.  est   quam    perspicacia   qutedara    in 

782,  783.  causam  collati  beneficii."     De  Aug- 

^  A  favourite  quip.     Apropos  of  mentis  Scientiarum,  cap.  iii.  15.     If 

the  bed  on  which  he  slept  at  Trin-  this  is  the  passage  which  Coleridge 

ity   College,    Cambridge,    in    June,  is   quoting,    he    has   inserted    some 

1833,    he   remarks,    "  Truly    I    lay  words  of   his   own.     The   Works  of 

down  at  night  a  man,  and  awoke  in  Bacon,  1711,  i.  183. 


672        JOURNALIST,  LECTURER,  PLAYWRIGHT       [Deo. 

Mr.  Dawe,  Royal  Associate,  who  plastered  my  face  for 
me,  says  that  he  never  saw  so  excellent  a  mask,  and  so 
unaffected  by  any  expression  of  pain  or  uneasiness.  On 
Tuesday,  at  the  farthest,  a  cast  will  be  finished,  which  I 
was  vain  enough  to  desire  to  be  packed  up  and  sent  to 
Dunmow.  Witli  it  you  will  find  a  chalk  drawing  of  my 
face,^  which  I  think  far  more  like  than  any  former  at- 
tempt, excepting  Allston's  full-length  portrait  of  me,^ 
which,  with  all  his  casts,  etc.,  two  or  three  valuable  works 
of  the  Venetian  school,  and  his  Jason  —  almost  finished, 
and  on  which  he  had  employed  eighteen  months  without 
intermission  —  are  lying  at  Leghorn,  with  no  chance  of 
procuring  them.    There  will  likewise  be  an  epistolary  essay 


1  A  crayon  sketch  of  Coleridge, 
drawn  by  George  Dawe,  R.  A.,  is 
now  in  existence  at  Heath  Court. 
The  figure,  which  is  turned  sideways, 
the  face  looking  up,  the  legs  crossed, 
is  that  of  a  man  in  early  middle  life, 
somewhat  too  portly  for  his  years. 
An  engraving  of  the  sketch  forms 
the  frontispiece  to  Lloyd's  History 
of  Highgate.  It  was,  in  the  late 
Lord  Coleridge's  opinion,  a  most 
characteristic  likeness  of  his  great- 
uncle.  A  time  came  when,  for  some 
reason,  Coleridge  held  Dawe  in  but 
light  esteem.  I  possess  a  card  of  in- 
vitation to  his  funeral,  which  took 
place  at  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  on  Oc- 
tober 27,  1829.  It  is  endorsed 
thus :  — 

"  I  really  would  have  attended 
the  Grub's  Canonization  in  St.  Paul's, 
under  the  impression  that  it  would 
gratify  his  sister,  Mrs.  Wright ;  but 
Mr.  G.  interposed  a  conditional  but 
sufficiently  decorous  negative.  '  No ! 
Unless  you  wish  to  fallow  his  Grub- 
ship  still  further  t/ojon.'  So  I  pleaded 
ill  health.  But  the  very  Thursday 
morning  I  went  to  Town  to  see  my 


daughter,  for  the  first  time,  as  Mrs. 
Henry  Coleridge,  in  Gower  Street, 
and,  odd  enough,  the  stage  was 
stopijed  by  the  Pomjious  Funeral  of 
the  unchangeable  and  predestinated 
Grub,  and  I  extemporised  :  — 

As  Grub  Dawe  pass'd  beneath  the  Hearse's 

Lid, 
On  which  a  large  RESURGAM  met  the 

eye, 
Col,  who  well  knew  the  Grub,  cried.  Lord 

forbid ! 
I  trust,  he  's  only  telling  us  a  lie  E 

S.  T.  Coleridge," 

Dawe,  it  may  be  remembered,  ia 
immortalised  by  Lamb  in  his  amus- 
ing Recollections  of  a  Late  lioyal 
Academician. 

2  This  portrait,  begun  at  Rome, 
was  not  finished  when  Coleridge  left. 
It  is  now  in  the  possession  of  All- 
ston's  niece,  Miss  Charlotte  Dana,  of 
Boston,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A.  The  por- 
trait by  Allston,  now  in  the  National 
Portrait  Gallery,  was  taken  at  Bris- 
tol in  1814.  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge, 
a  Narrative,  by  J.  Dykes  Campbell, 
1894,  p.  150,  footnote  5. 


1811]  TO  SIR  G.  BEAUMONT  573 

for  Lady  Beaumont  on  the  subject  of  religion  in  refer- 
ence to  my  own  faith ;  it  was  too  long  to  send  by  the 
post. 

Dawe  is  engaged  on  a  picture  (the  figTires  about  four 
feet)  from  my  poem  of  Love. 

She  leaned  beside  the  armed  man, 

The  statue  of  the  armed  knight ; 

She  stood  and  listened  to  my  harp 

Amid  the  lingering  light. 

His  dying  words  —  but  when  I  reached,  etc. 

All  impulses  of  soul  and  sense,  etc. 

His  sketch  is  very  beautiful,  and  has  more  expression 
than  I  ever  found  in  his  former  productions  —  excepting, 
indeed,  his  Imogen. 

Allston  is  hard  at  work  on  a  large  Scripture  piece  — 
the  dead  man  recalled  to  life  by  touching  the  bones  of  the 
Prophet.  He  models  every  figure.  Dawe,  who  was  de- 
lighted with  the  Cupid  and  Psyche,  seemed  quite  aston- 
ished at  the  facility  and  exquisiteness  with  which  Allston 
modelled.  Canova  at  Rome  expressed  himself  to  me  in 
very  warm  terms  of  admiration  on  the  same  subject.  He 
means  to  exhibit  but  two  or  at  the  most  three  pictures,  all 
poetical  or  history  painting,  in  part  by  my  advice.  It 
seemed  to  me  impolitic  to  appear  to  be  trying  in  half  a 
dozen  ways,  as  if  his  mind  had  not  yet  discovered  its  main 
current.  The  longer  I  live  the  more  deeply  am  I  con- 
vinced of  the  high  importance,  as  a  symptom^  of  the  love 
of  heauty  in  a  young  painter.  It  is  neither  honourable  to 
a  young  man's  heart  or  head  to  attach  himself  year  after 
year  to  old  or  deformed  objects,  comparatively  too  so 
easy,  especially  if  bad  drawing  and  worse  colouring  leaves 
the»spectator's  imagination  at  lawless  liberty,  and  he  cries 
out,  "  How  very  like  !  "  just  as  he  would  at  a  coal  in  the 
centre  of  the  fire,  or  at  a  frost-figure  on  a  window  pane. 
It  is  on  tliis,  added  to  his  quiet  unenvious  spirit,  to  his 


574         JOURNALIST,  LECTURER,  PLAYWRIGHT      [Feb. 

lofty  feelings  concerning  liis  art,  and  to  the  religious 
purity  of  his  moral  character,  that  I  chiefly  rest  my  hopes 
of  Allston's  future  fame.  Ilis  best  productions  seem  to 
please  him  princii)ally  because  be  sees  and  has  learnt 
something  -which  enables  him  to  promise  himself,  "  I  shall 
do  better  in  my  next." 

I  have  not  been  at  the  "  Courier "  office  for  some 
months  past.  I  detest  writing  politics,  even  on  the  right 
side,  and  when  I  discovered  that  the  "  Courier  "  was  not 
the  independent  paper  I  had  been  led  to  believe,  and  had 
myself  over  and  over  again  asserted,  I  wrote  no  more  for 
it.  Greatly,  indeed,  do  I  prefer  the  present  Ministers  to 
the  leaders  of  any  other  party,  but  indiscriminate  support 
of  any  class  of  men  I  dare  not  give,  especially  when  there 
is  so  easy  and  honourable  an  alternative  as  not  to  write 
politics  at  all,  which,  henceforth,  nothing  but  blank  neces- 
sity shall  compel  me  to  do.  I  will  write  for  the  Perma- 
nent, or  not  at  all.  "  The  Comet "  therefore  I  have  never 
seen  or  heard  of  it,  yet  most  true  it  is  that  I  myself 
have  composed  some  verses  on  the  comet,  but  I  am  quite 
certain  that  no  one  ever  saw  them,  for  the  best  of  all  rea- 
sons, that  my  own  brain  is  the  only  substance  on  which 
they  have  been  recorded.  I  will,  however,  consign  them 
to  paper,  and  send  them  to  you  with  the  "  Courier  "  poem 
as  soon  as  I  can  procure  it,  for  the  curiosity  of  the 
thing.  .  .  . 

My  most  affectionate  respects  to  Lady  Beaumonte,  and 
believe  me,  dear  Sir  George,  with  heartfelt  regard, 
Your  obliged  and  grateful  friend, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

P.  S.  Were  you  in  town,  I  should  be  very  sorry,  in- 
deed, to   see   you   in  Fetter  Lane.^     The   lectures  were 

^  The  lectures  were  delivered  at  Hall,  Crane  Court,  Fleet  Street  (en- 
the  rooms  of  "  The  London  Pliilo-  trance  from  Fetter  Lane)."  Of  the 
Bophical  Society,  Scotch  Corporation    lecture  on  "  Love  and   the  Female 


1812]  TO  J.   J.   MORGAN  575 

meant  for  the  young  men  of  the  City.  Several  of  my 
friends  join  to  take  notes,  and  if  I  can  correct  what  they 
can  shape  out  of  them  into  any  tolerable  form,  I  will  send 
them  to  you.  On  Monday  I  lecture  on  "  Love  and  the  Fe- 
male Character  as  displayed  by  Shakespeare."  Good  Dr. 
Bell  is  in  town.  He  came  from  Keswick,  all  delight  with 
my  little  Sara,  and  quite  enchanted  with  Southey.  Some 
flights  of  admiration  in  the  form  of  questions  to  me  ("  Did 
you  ever  see  anything  so  finely  conceived  ?  so  profoundly 
thought  ?  as  this  passage  in  his  review  on  the  Methodists  ? 
or  on  the  Education  ?  "  etc.)  embarrassed  me  in  a  very  ri- 
diculous way ;  and,  I  verily  believe,  that  my  odd  way  of 
hesitating  left  on  Bell's  mind  some  shade  of  a  suspicion, 
as  if  I  did  not  like  to  hear  my  friend  so  highly  extolled. 
Half  a  dozen  words  from  Southey  would  have  precluded 
this,  without  diminution  to  his  own  fame  —  I  mean,  in 
conversation  with  Dr.  Bell. 

CLXXXIV.    TO   J.    J.    MORGAN. 

Keswick,!  Sunday,  February  28,  1812. 

My  dear  Morgan,  —  I  stayed  a  day  in  Kendal  in 
order  to  collect  the  reprint  of  "  The  Friend,"  and  reached 
Keswick  on  Tuesday  last  before  dinner,  having  taken 
Hartley  and  Derwent  with  me  from  Ambleside.  Of 
course  the  first  evening  was  devoted  Larihus  domesticis^ 
to  Southey  and  his  and  my  children.  My  own  are  all  the 
fondest  father  could  pray  for ;  and  little  Sara  does  honour 

Character,"  which  was  delivered  on  London,  1856,  p.  viii. ;  H.  C.  Robin- 
December  9,  1811,  H.  C.  Robinson  son's  Diary,  ii.  348,  MS.  notes  by 
writes :  "  Accomiianied  Mrs.  Rough  J.  Tomalin. 

to  Coleridge's    seventh  and   incom-         ^  The  visit  to  Greta  Hall,  the  last 

parably  best  Lecture.  He  declaimed  he  ever  paid  to  the  Lake  Country, 

with  great   eloquence   about    love,  lasted  about  a  month,  from  February 

without  wandering  from  his  subject,  23  to   March    26.     On   his   journey 

Romeo    and    Juliet."     Among    the  southward  he  remained   in  Penrith 

friends  who  took  notes  were  John  for  a  little  over  a  fortnight,  rejoin- 

Payne  Collier,  and  a  Mr.  Tomalin.  ing  the  Morgans  towards  the  middle 

Coleridge's  Lectures  on  Shakespeare,  of  April. 


576         JOURNALIST,  LECTURER,  PLAYWRIGHT      [Feb. 

to  Ik'v  mother's  anxieties,  reads  Frencli  tolerably,  and 
Italian  fluently,  and  I  was  astonished  at  her  acquaintance 
with  her  native  language.  The  word  ""  hostile  "  occurring 
in  what  she  read  to  nie,  I  asked  her  what  "  hostile " 
meant  ?  and  she  answered  at  once,  "  WJiy  !  inimical ;  only 
that  '  inimical '  is  more  often  used  for  things  and  meas- 
ures and  not,  as  '  hostile  '  is,  to  persons  and  nations."  If 
I  had  dared,  I  should  have  urged  Mrs.  C.  to  let  me  take 
her  to  Loudon  for  four  or  five  months,  and  return  with 
Southey,  but  I  feared  it  might  be  inconvenient  to  you, 
and  I  knew  it  would  be  presmnptuous  in  me  to  bring  her  to 
you.  But  she  is  such  a  sweet-tempered,  meek,  blue-eyed 
fairy  and  so  affectionate,  trustworthy,  and  really  service- 
able !  Derwent  is  the  self-same,  fond,  small,  Samuel 
Taylor  Coleridge  as  ever.  When  I  went  for  them  from 
Mr.  Dawes,^  he  came  in  dancing  for  joy,  while  Hartley 
turned  pale  ^  and  trembled  all  over,  —  then  after  he  had 
taken  some  cold  water,  instantly  asked  me  some  questions 
about  the  connection  of  the  Greek  with  the  Latin,  which 
latter  he  has  just  begun  to  learn.  Poor  Derwent,  who 
has  by  no  means  strong  health  (having  inherited  his  poor 

^  The  Reverend  John  Dawes,  any  pecuniary  remuneration."  Poems 
who  kept  a  day-school  at  Amble-  of  Hartley  Coleridge,  ISol,  i.  liii. 
side.  Hartley  and  Derwent  Cole-  -  In  an  unpublished  letter  from 
ridge,  Robert  Jameson,  Owen  Lloyd  Mrs.  Coleridge  to  Poole,  dated  Octo- 
and  his  three  brothers  (sons  of  ber  30,  1812,  she  tells  her  old  friend 
Charles  Lloj'd),  and  tlie  late  Edward  that  when  "the  boys"  perceived 
Jefferies,  afterwards  Curate  and  that  their  father  did  not  intend  to 
Rector  of  Grasmere,  were  among  his  turn  aside  to  visit  the  Wordsworths 
pupils.  In  the  Memoir  of  Hart-  at  the  Rectory  opposite  Grasmere 
ley  Coleridge,  his  brother  Derwent  Church,  they  turned  pale  and  were 
describes  at  some  length  the  char-  visibly  affected.  No  doubt  they 
acter  of  his  "  worthy  master,"  and  knew  all  about  the  quarrel  and  were 
adds  :  "  We  were  among  his  earliest  mightUy  concerned,  but  their  .agita- 
scholars,  and  deeming  it,  as  he  said,  tion  was  a  reflex  of  the  grief  and 
an  honour  to  be  entrusted  with  the  passion  "  writ  lai^e "  in  their  fa- 
education  of  Mr.  Coleridge's  sons,  ther's  face.  One  can  iniapfine  with 
he  refused,  first  for  the  elder,  and  what  ecstasy  of  self-torture  he  would 
afterwards  for  the  younger  brother,  pass    through  Grasmere   and  leave 

Wordsworth  unvisited. 


1812]  TO   J.   J.   MORGAN  577 

father's  tenderness  of  bowels  and  stomach,  and  conse- 
quently capriciousness  of  animal  spirits),  has  complained 
to  me  (having  no  other  possible  grievance)  "  that  Mr. 
Dawes  does  not  love  him,  because  he  can't  help  crying 
when  he  is  scolded,  and  because  he  ain't  such  a  genius  as 
Hartley  —  and  that  though  Hartley  should  have  done  the 
same  thing,  yet  all  the  others  are  punished,  and  Mr. 
Dawes  only  looks  at  Hartley  and  never  scolds  him^  and 
that  all  the  boys  think  it  very  unfair  —  he  is  a  genius." 
This  was  uttered  in  low  spirits  and  a  tenderness  brought 
on  by  my  petting,  for  he  adores  his  brother.  Indeed,  God 
be  j)raised,  they  all  love  each  other.  I  was  delighted  that 
Derwent,  of  his  own  accord,  asked  me  about  little  Miss 
Brent  that  used  to  j^lay  with  him  at  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mor- 
gan's, adding  that  he  had  almost  forgot  what  sort  of  a 
lady  she  was,  "only  she  was  littler,  —  less  I  mean  —  (this 
was  said  hastily  and  laughing  at  his  blunder)  than  Mama." 
A  oentleman  M'ho  took  a  third  of  the  chaise  with  me  from 
Ambleside,  and  whom  I  found  a  well-informed  and  think- 
ing man,  said  after  two  hours'  knowledge  of  us,  that  the 
two  boys  united  woidd  be  a  perfect  representation  of  my- 
self. 

I  trust  I  need  not  say  that  I  should  have  written  on 
the  second  day  if  nothing  had  hai^pened ;  but  from  the 
dreadful  dampness  of  the  house,  worse  than  it  was  in  the 
rudest  state  when  I  first  lived  in  it,  and  the  weather,  too, 
all  storm  and  rain,  I  caught  a  violent  cold  which  almost 
blinded  me  by  inflammation  of  both  my  eyes,  and  for 
three  days  bore  all  the  symptoms  of  an  ague  or  intermit- 
tent fever.  Knowing  I  had  no  time  to  lose,  I  took  the 
most  Hercvdean  remedies,  among  others  a  solution  of 
arsenic,  and  am  now  as  well  as  when  I  left  you,  and  see  no 
reason  to  fear  a  relapse.  I  passed  through  Grasmere  ; 
but  did  not  call  on  Wordswoi'th.  I  hear  from  Mrs.  C. 
that  he  treats  the  affair  as  a  trifle,  and  only  wonders  at  my 
resenting  it,  and  that  Dorothy   AVordsworth    before    my 


578         JOURNALIST,  LECTURER,  PLAYWRIGHT    [April 

arrival  expressed  her  coiifuleut  hope  that  I  shouhl  come 
to  them  at  ouee  !  I  wlio  "'  for  years  past  had  been  an  ab- 
solute NUISANCE  in  the  family."  This  illness  has  thrown 
me  Lehindhand  ;  so  that  I  cannot  quit  Keswick  till  the 
end  of  the  week.  On  Friday  I  shall  return  by  way  of 
Ambleside,  probably  S2)end  a  day  with  Charles  Lloyd.  .  .  . 
It  will  not  surprise  you  that  the  statements  respecting 
me  and  Montagu  and  Wordsworth  have  been  grossly 
pervertetl :  and  yet,  spite  of  all  this,  there  is  not  a  friend 
of  Wordsworth's,  I  understand,  who  does  not  severely 
blame  him,  though  they  execrate  the  Montagus  yet  more 
heavily.  But  the  tenth  part  of  the  truth  is  not  known. 
Would  you  believe  it  possible  that  Wordsworth  himself 
stated  my  loearing  poicder  as  a  proof  positive  that  I 
never  could  have  suffered  any  pain  of  mind  from  the 
affair,  and  that  it  was  all  pretence  !  !  God  forgive  him ! 
At  Liverpool  I  shall  either  give  lectures,  if  I  can  secure 
a  hundred  pomids  for  them,  or  return  immediately  to  you. 
At  all  events,  I  shall  not  remain  there  beyond  a  fortnight, 
so  that  I  shall  be  with  you  before  you  have  changed 
houses.  Mrs.  Coleridge  seems  quite  satisfied  with  my 
plans,  and  abundantly  convinced  of  my  obligations  to 
your  and  Mary's  kindness  to  me.  Nothing  (she  said)  but 
the  circumstance  of  my  residing  with  you  could  reconcile 
her  to  my  living  in  London.  Southey  is  the  semper  idem. 
It  is  impossible  for  a  good  heart  not  to  esteem  and  to  love 
him ;  but  yet  the  love  is  one  fourth,  the  esteem  all  the 
remainder.  His  children  are,  1.  Edith,  seven  years ; 
2.  Herbert,  five ;  3.  Bertha^  four ;  4.  Catharine,  a  year  and 
a  half. 

I  had  hoped  to  have  heard  from  you  by  this  time.  I 
wrote  from  Slough,  from  Liverpool,  and  from  Kendal. 
Why  need  I  send  my  kindest  love  to  Mary  and  Char- 
lotte ?  I  would  not  return  if  I  had  a  doubt  that  they  be- 
lieved me  to  be  in  the  very  inmost  of  my  being  their  and 
your  affectionate  and  grateful  and  constant  friend, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 


1812]  TO   HIS  WIFE  579 

CLXXXV.    TO   HIS   WIFE. 

71,  Berners  Street,  Tuesday,  April  21,  1812. 

My  deae  Love,  —  Everything  is  going  on  so  very- 
well,  so  much  beyond  my  exiJectation,  that  I  will  not 
revert  to  anything  unpleasant  to  damp  good  news  with. 
The  last  receipt  for  the  insurance  is  now  before  me,  the 
date  the  4tli  of  May.  Be  assured  that  before  April  is 
past,  you  shall  receive  both  receipts,  this  and  the  one  for 
the  present  year,  in  a  frank. 

In  the  first  place,  my  health,  spirits,  and  disposition  to 
activity  have  continued  such  since  my  arrival  in  town, 
that  every  one  has  been  struck  with  the  change,  and  the 
Morgans  say  they  had  never  before  seen  me  myself.  I 
feel  myself  an  altered  man,  and  dare  promise  you  that  you 
shall  never  have  to  complain  of,  or  to  apprehend,  my  not 
opening  and  reading  your  letters.  Ever  since  I  have  been 
in  town,  I  have  never  taken  any  stimulus  of  any  kind,  till 
the  moment  of  my  getting  into  bed,  except  a  glass  of 
British  white  wine  after  dinn6r,  and  from  three  to  four 
glasses  of  port,  when  I  have  dined  out.  Secondly,  my 
lectures  have  been  taken  up  most  warmly  and  zealously 
by  Sir  Thomas  Bernard,^  Sir  George  Beaumont,  Mr. 
Sotheby,  etc.,  and  in  a  few  days,  I  trust  that  you  \\\\\  be 
agreeably  surprised  with  the  mode  in  which  Sir  T.  B. 
hopes  and  will  use  his  best  exertions  to  have  them  an- 
nounced. Thirdly,  Gale  and  Curtis  are  in  high  spirits 
and  confident  respecting  the  sale  of  "  The  Friend,"  ^  and 

1  Sir  Thomas  Bernard,  1750-1818,  conclude  the  unfinished  narrative  of 
the  well-known  philanthropist  and  the  life  of  Sir  Alexander  Ball,  and 
promoter  of  national  education,  was  to  publish  the  wliole  as  a  complete 
one  of  the  founders  of  the  Royal  work.  A  printed  slip  cut  out  of  a 
Institution.  page  of  publishers'  advertisements 

2  It  is  probable  that  during  his  and  forwarded  to  "  H.  X.  Coleridge, 
stay  at  Pcnritli  he  recovered  a  nuni-  Esq.,  from  W.  Pickering,''  contains 
ber  of  unbound  sheets  of  the  reprint  the  following  announcement :  — 

of    The   Friend.      Ilis    proposal   to         "  Mr.  Coleridge's  Fr/e (if/,  of  which 
Gale  and  Curtis  must  have  been  to     twenty-eight  Numbers  are  published, 


580        JOURNALIST,  LECTURER,  PLAYWRIGHT      [Aprii 

the  call  for  a  second  edition,  after  the  conipleniental  num- 
bers have  been  })rinted,  and  not  less  so  respecting  the 
success  of  the  other  work,  the  Propaidia  (or  Propaideia) 
Cyclica,  and  are  desirous  to  have  the  terms  properly  rati- 
fied, and  signed  as  soon  as  possible.  Nothing  intervenes 
to  overglooni  my  mind,  but  the  sad  state  of  health  of  Mr. 
Morgan,  a  more  faithful  and  zealous  friend  than  whom 
no  man  ever  possessed.  Thank  God !  my  safe  arrival, 
the  improvement  of  my  health  and  spirits,  and  my  smilino- 
prospects  have  already  exerted  a  favourable  influence  on 
him.  Yet  I  dare  not  disguise  from  myself  that  there  is 
cause  for  alarm  to  those  who  love  and  value  him.  But 
do  not  allude  to  this  subject  in  your  letters,  for  to  be 
thought  ill  or  to  have  his  state  of  health  spoken  of,  agi- 
tates and  depresses  him. 

As  soon  as  ever  I  have  settled  the  lecture  room,  which 
perhaps  will  be  Willis's  in  Hanover  Square,  the  price  of 
whieh  is  at  present  ten  guineas  a  time,  I  will  the  very  first 
thing  pay  the  insurance  and  send  off  a  parcel  of  books  for 
Hartley,  Derwent,  and  dear  Sara,  whom  I  kissed  seven 
times  in  the  shape  of  her  pretty  letterlet. 

My  poor  darling  Derwent !  I  shall  be  most  anxious  to 
receive  a  letter  from  you,  or  from  himself,  about  him. 

In  giving  my  love  to  Mrs.  Lovell,  tell  her  that  I  have 
not  since  the  day  after  my  arrival  been  able  to  go  into 
the  city,  my  business  having  employed  me  wholly  either 
in  writing  or  in  traversing  the  West  End  of  the  town.  I 
dined  with  Lady  Beaumont  and  her  sister  on  Saturday, 
for  Sir  George  was  engaged  to  Sir  T.  Bernard.  He  how- 
may  now  be  had,  in  one  Volume,  can  obtain  them  throng'h  their  regu- 
royal  Svo.  boards,  of  Mess:  Gale  lar  Booksellers.  Only  300  copies 
and  Curtis,  Paternoster  Row.  And  remain  of  the  28  numbers,  and  their 
Mr.  C.  intends  to  complete  the  Work,  being  printed  on  unstamped  paper 
in  from  eight  to  ten  similar  sheets  to  will  account  to  the  Subscribers  for 
the  foregoing,  which  will  be  pub-  the  difference  of  price.  23,  Tater- 
li.shed  together  in  one  part,  sewed,  noster  Row,  London,  Ist  February, 
The  Subscribers  to  the  former  part     1812." 


1812]  TO  HIS  WIFE  581 

ever  came  and  sat  with  us  to  the  very  last  moment,  and  I 
dine  with  him  to-day,  and  AUston  is  to  be  of  the  party. 
The  bust  and  the  picture  from  Genevieve  are  at  the  Royal 
Academy,  and  already  are  talked  of.  Dawe  and  I  will  be 
of  mutual  service  to  each  other.  As  soon  as  the  pictures 
are  settled,  that  is,  in  the  first  week  of  May,  he  means  to 
treat  himself  with  a  fortnight's  relaxation  at  the  Lakes. 
He  is  a  very  modest  man,  his  manners  not  over  polished, 
and  his  worst  point  is  that  he  is  (at  least,  I  have  found 
him  so)  a  fearful  questionist,  whenever  he  thinks  he  can 
pick  up  any  information,  or  ideas,  poetical,  historical, 
topographical,  or  artistical,  that  he  can  make  bear  on  his 
profession.  But  he  is  sincere,  friendly,  strictly  moral  in 
every  respect,  I  firmly  believe  even  to  innocence^  and  in 
point  of  cheerful  indefatigableness  of  industry,  in  regu- 
larity, and  temperance  —  in  short,  in  a  glad,  yet  quiet, 
devotion  of  his  whole  being  to  the  art  he  has  made  choice 
of,  he  is  the  only  man  I  ever  knew  who  goes  near  to  rival 
Southey  —  gentlemanly  address,  person,  physiognomy, 
knowledge,  learning,  and  genius  being  of  course  wholly 
excluded  from  the  comparison.  God  knows  my  heart ! 
and  that  it  is  my  full  belief  and  conviction,  that  taking 
all  together^  there  does  not  exist  the  man  who  could  with- 
out flattery  or  delusion  be  called  Southey's  equal.  It  is 
quite  delightful  to  hear  how  he  is  spoken  of  by  all  good 
people.  Dawe  will  doubtless  tahe  him.  Were  S.  and  I 
rich  men,  we  would  have  ourselves  and  all  of  you,  short 
and  tall,  in  one  family  picture.  Pray  receive  Dawe  as  a 
friend.  I  called  on  Murray,  who  complained  that  by  Dr. 
Bell's  delays  and  irresolutions  and  scruples,  the  book  "  On 
the  Origin,"  ^  etc.,  instead  of  3,000  in  three  weeks,  which 
he  has  no  doubt  would  have  been  the  sale  had  it  been 
brought  out  at  the  fit  time,  will  not  now  sell  300.  I  told 
him  that  I  believed  otherwise,  but  much  would  depend  on 

^  The  full  title  of  this  work  was     the     New      System     of    Education. 
The  Origin,  Nature   and   Object  of    Southey's  Life  of  Dr.  Bell,  ii.  400. 


582      JOURNALIST,  LECTURER,  PLAYWRIGHT      [April 

the  circuiustauce  whether  temper  or  prudence  would  have 
most  intlueuce  on  the  Atheiiiau  critic  and  his  friend 
Brougham.  If,  as  I  hoped,  the  former,  and  the  work 
shouhl  be  reviewed  in  the  "  Edinburgh  Keview,"  if  they 
took  up  the  gauntlet  thrown  at  them,  then  there  was 
no  doubt  but  that  a  strong  tide  of  sale  would  set  in. 
Though  verily  this  gauntlet  was  of  weighty  metal,  though 
of  polished  steel,  and  being  thrown  at  rather  than  doion, 
it  was  challenging  a  man  to  fight  by  a  blow  that  threat- 
ened to  brain  him.  I  have  seen  Dr.  Bell  and  shall  dine 
with  him  at  Sir  T.  Bernard's  on  Monday  next.  The  ven- 
erable Bishop  of  Durham  ^  has  sent  me  a  very  kind  mes- 
sage, that  though  he  cannot  himself  appear  in  a  hired  lec- 
ture room,  yet  he  will  be  not  only  my  subscriber  but  use  his 
best  influence  with  his  acquaintance.  I  am  very  anxious 
that  my  books  shoidd  be  sent  forward  as  soon  as  possible. 
They  may  be  sent  at  three  different  times,  with  a  week's 
intervention.  But  there  is  one,  scarcely  a  book,  but  a 
collection  of  loose  sheets  tied  up  together  at  Grasmere, 
which  I  want  immediately,  and,  if  possible,  would  have 
sent  up  by  the  coach  from  Kendal  or  Penrith.  It  is  a 
German  Romance  with  some  name  beginning  with  an  A, 
followed  by  "  oder  Die  Gliickliche  Insehi."  It  makes 
two  volumes,  but  several  of  the  sheets  are  missing,  at 
least  were  so  when  I  put  them  together.  If  sent  oft'  im- 
mediately, it  would  be  of  serious  benefit  to  me  in  my  lec- 
tures. Miss  Hutchinson  knows  them,  and  will  probably 
recollect  the  sheets  I  allude  to,  and  these  are  what  I  espe- 
cially want. 

One  pair  only  of  breeches  were  in  the  parcel,  and  I  am 
sadly  off  for  stockings,  but  the  white  and  under  ones  I 

1  The  ITonourable  and  Right  Rev-  He  was  a  warm   supporter  of  the 

erend  John  Shute  Barrington,  17o4—  Madras    system   of    education.      It 

18-6,   sixth   son   of    the   first   Lord  was  no  douht  Dr.  Bell  who  helped 

Barrington,  was  successively  Bishop  to  interest  the  Bishop  in  Coleridge's 

of  LlandafF,  Salisbury,  and  Durham.  Lectures. 


1812]  TO  HIS  WIFE  583 

can  buy  here  cheap,  but  if  young  Mr.  White  coukl  j^ro- 
cure  half  a  dozen  or  even  a  dozen  pair  of  black  silk  made 
as  stout  and  weighty  as  possible,  I  would  not  mind  giving 
seventeen  shillings  per  pair,  if  only  they  can  be  i^elied  on, 
which  one  cannot  do  in  London.  A  double  knock.  I 
meant  to  read  over  your  letter  again,  lest  I  should  have 
forgot  anything.  If  I  have,  I  will  answer  it  in  my  next. 
God  bless  you  and  your  affectionate  husband, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

Has  Southey  read  "  Childe  Harold  "  ?  All  the  world  is 
talking  of  it.  I  have  not,  but  from  what  I  hear  it  is 
exactly  on  the  plan  that  I  myself  had  not  only  conceived 
six  years  ago,  but  have  the  whole  scheme  drawn  out  in 
one  of  my  old  memorandum  books.  My  dear  Edith,  and 
my  dear  Moon  !  ^  Though  I  have  scarce  room  to  write  it, 
yet  I  love  you  very  much. 

CLXXXVI.    TO   THE   SAME. 

71,  Berners  Street,  April  24,  1812. 

My  dear  Sara,  —  Give  my  kind  love  to  Southey,  and 
inform  him  that  I  have,  egomet  his  ipsis  meis  oculls, 
seen  Nohs^  alive,  well,  and  in  full  fleece  ;  that  after  the 
death  of  Dr.  Samuel  Dove,^  of  Doncaster,  who  did  not 

^  Herbert  Southey,  known  in  the  was  fully  developed  in  the  spring  of 

family  as  "  Doj^-Lunus,"  and  "  Lu-  1812,  when  Coleridg-e  paid  his  last 

nus,"  and  "  The  Moon."      Letters  of  visit  to  Greta  Hall.     It  wtis  not  till 

R.  Southey,  ii.  31)9.  the  winter  of  1833-1834,  that  tlie  first 

2  Readers  of  The  Doctor  will  not  two  volumes  of  The  Doctor  appeared 

be  at  a  loss  to  understand  the  sig-  in  print,  and,  as  they  were  published 

nificance   of    the  references  to   Dr.  anonymously,  they   were,  probably, 

Daniel  Dove   and   his  horse    Nobs,  by  persons  familiar  with  hLs  contri- 

Accordino-  to  Cuthbert  Southey.  the  bution  to  Black-wood  and  the  Loudon 

actual  composition  of  the  book  be-  Magazine,     attributed    to    Hartley 

gan   in  1813,   but  the  date  of  this  Coleridge.     "  No  clue  to  the  author 

letter  (April,  1812)  shows  that  the  has  reached  me,"  wrote  Southey  to 

myth   or   legend   of   the  "Doctor,"  his  friend  Wynne.    "As  for    Hart- 

and  his  iron-grey,  which  had  taken  ley  Coleridge,  I  wish  it  were  his,  but 

shape   certainly  as  early  as    1805,  am  certain  that  it  is  not.     He   is 


584      JOURNALIST,  LECTURER,  PLAYWRIGHT       [April 

survive  the  loss  of  his  faithful  wife,  Mrs.  Dorothy  Dove, 
more  than  eleven  months,  Nobs  was  disposed  of  by  his 
executors  to  Longman  and  Clements,  IMusieal  Instrument 
Manufacturers,  whose  grand  pianoforte  hearses  he  now 
draws  in  the  streets  of  London.  The  carter  was  aston- 
ished at  the  enthusiasm  with  which  I  intreated  him  to 
stop  for  half  a  minute,  and  the  embrace  I  gave  to  Xobs, 
who  evidently  understood  me,  and  wistfully  with  such  a 
sad  expression  in  his  eye,  seemed  to  say,  "  Ah,  my  kind 
old  master.  Doctor  Daniel,  and  ah  I  my  mild  mistress,  his 
dear  duteous  Dolly  Dove,  my  gratitude  lies  deeper  than 
my  obligation  ;  it  is  not  merely  skin-deep !  Ah,  what  I 
have  been !  Oh,  what  I  am  I  his  naked,  neighing,  night- 
wandering,  new-skinned,  nibbling,  noblenursling.  Nobs  I  " 
His  legs  and  hoofs  are  more  than  half  sheepified,  and 
his  fleece  richer  than  one  ever  sees  in  the  Leicester  breed, 
but  not  so  fine  as  might  have  been  the  case  had  the  merino 
cross  been  introduced  before  the  surprising  accident  and 
more  surprising  remedy  took  place.  More  surprising  I 
say,  because  the  first  happened  to  St.  Bartholomew  (for 
there  were  skinners  even  in  the  days  of  St.  Bartholomew), 
but  the  other  never  before  there  was  no  Dr.  Daniel  Dove. 
I  trust  that  Southey  will  now  not  hesitate  to  record  and 
transmit  to  posterity  so  remarkable  a  fact.  I  am  de- 
lighted, for  now  malice  itself  will  not  dare  to  attribute 
the  story  to  my  invention.  If  I  can  procure  the  money, 
I  will  attempt  to  purchase  Nobs,  and  send  him  down  to 
Keswick  by  short  journeys  for  Herbert  and  Derwent  to 
ride  upon,  provided  you  can  get  the  field  next  us. 

quite  clever  enough  to  have  written  folly  are  of  tliat  kind."  There  had 
it  —  quite  odd  enough,  hut  his  opin-  been  a  time  when  Southey  would 
ions  are  desperately  radical,  and  he  have  expressed  himself  differently, 
is  the  last  person  in  the  world  to  hut  in  1834  dissociation  from  Cole- 
disguise  them.  One  report  was  that  ridge  had  become  a  matter  alike  of 
his  father  had  assisted  him ;  there  habit  and  of  principle.  tiouthey's 
is  not  a  page  in  the  hook,  wise  or  Life  and  Correspondence,  ii.  355,  vi. 
foolish,  which  the  latter  couW  have  22.5-229;  Letters  of  R.  Southey,  iv. 
written,  neither  his  wisdom  nor  his  373. 


1812]  TO   HIS   WIFE  585 

I  have  not  been  able  to  procure  a  frank,  but  I  daresay 
you  will  be  glad  to  receive  the  enclosed  receipt  even  with 
the  drawback  of  postage. 

Everything,  my  dear,  goes  on  as  prosperously  as  you 
could  yourself  wish.  Sir  T.  Bernard  has  taken  AVillis's 
Rooms,  King  Street,  St.  James's,  for  me,  at  only  four 
guineas  a  week,  fires,  benches,  etc.,  included,  and  I  ex- 
pect the  lectures  to  commence  on  the  first  Tuesday  in 
May.  But  at  the  present  moment  I  need  both  the  advice 
and  the  aid  of  Southey.  The  "  Friends  "  have  arrived  in 
town.  I  am  at  work  on  the  Supplemental  Numbers,  and 
it  is  of  the  last  importance  that  they  should  be  brought 
out  as  quieldy  as  possible  during  the  flush  and  fresh  breeze 
of  my  popularity ;  but  this  I  cannot  do  without  know- 
ino-  whether  Mr.  Wordsworth  will  transmit  to  me  the  two 
fuiishing  Essays  on  Epitaphs.^  It  is,  I  know  and  feel,  a 
very  delicate  business ;  yet  I  wish  Southey  would  imme- 
diately write  to  Wordsworth  and  urge  him  to  send  them 
by  the  coach,  either  to  J.  J.  Morgan,  Esq.,  71,  Berners 
Street,  or  to  Messrs.  Gale  and  Curtis,  Booksellers,  Pater- 
noster Row,  with  as  little  delay  as  possible,  or  if  he 
decline  it,  that  Southey  should  apprize  me  as  soon  as 
possible. 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

The  Morgans  desire  to  be  kindly  remembered,  and 
Charlotte  Brent  (tell  Derwent)  hopes  he  has  not  forgot 
his  old  playfellow. 

1  The  first  of  the  series  of  "  Es-  an  outline  and  some  extracts  in  the 

says  upon  Epitaphs "  was  published  Memoirs    (i.    434-445),    were    pub- 

in  No.  25  of   the  original   issue  of  lished   in   full   in   Prose   Works   of 

The  Friend  (Feb.  22,  1810),  and  re-  Wordsworth,  1876,  ii.  41-75."      Life 

published    by   Wordsworth    in   the  of  W.  Wordsworth,  ii.  152  ;  Poetical 

notes  to  The  Excursion,  1814.    "  Two  Works  of  Wordsworth,  Bibliography, 

other  portions  of    the   'Series,'   of  p.  907. 
which  the  Bishop  of  Lincoln  gives 


586        JOURNALIST,  LECTURER,  PLAYWRIGHT       [Mat 

CLXXXVII.    TO   CHARLES   LAMB. 

May  2,  1812. 

My  dear  Charles,  —  I  should  almost  deserve  what  I 
have  suffered,  if  I  refused  even  to  put  my  life  in  hazard 
in  defence  of  my  o\ni  honour  and  veracity,  and  in  satis- 
faction of  the  honour  of  a  friend.  I  say  hononr,  in  the 
latter  instance,  singly,  because  I  never  felt  as  a  matter  of 
serious  complaint,  ichat  was  stated  to  have  been  said  (for 
this,  though  painfully  aggravated,  was  yet  substantially 
true)  —  but  by  whom  it  was  said,  and  to  whom,  and  how 
and  when.  Grievously  unseasonable  therefore  as  it  is, 
that  I  should  again  be  overtaken  and  hurried  back  by  the 
surge,  just  as  I  had  begun  to  feel  the  firm  ground  under 
my  feet  —  just  as  I  had  flattered  myself,  and  given  reason 
to  my  hospitable  friends  to  flatter  themselves,  that  I  had 
regained  tranquillity,  and  had  become  quite  myself  —  at 
the  time,  too,  when  every  thought  should  be  given  to  my 
lectures,  on  the  success  or  failure  of  my  efforts  in  which 
no  small  part  of  my  reputation  and  future  prospects  will 
depend  —  yet  if  Wordsworth,  upon  reflection,  adheres  to 
the  plan  jiroposed,  I  will  not  draw  back.  It  is  right,  how- 
ever, that  I  should  state  one  or  two  things.  First,  that  it 
has  been  my  constant  desire  that  evil  shoidd  not  propa- 
gate evil  —  or  the  unhapjiy  accident  become  the  means  of 
spreadinc/  dissension.  (2)  That  I  never  quarrelled  with 
Mr.  Montagu  —  say  rather,  for  that  is  the  real  truth,  that 
Mr.  Montagu  never  was,  or  appeared  to  be,  a  man  with 
whom  I  could,  without  self -con  tempt,  allow  myself  to 
quarrel  —  and  lastly,  that  in  the  present  business  there 
are  but  three  possible  cases  —  either  (1)  Mr.  Wordsworth 
said  what  I  solemnly  aver  that  I  most  distinctly  recollect 
Mr.  Montagu's  representing  him  as  having  said,  and 
which  /  understood,  not  merely  as  great  unkindness  and 
even  cruelty,  but  as  an  intentional  means  of  putting  an 
end  to  our  long  friendship,  or  to  the  terms  at  least,  mider 


1812]  TO   CHARLES  LAMB  587 

which  it  had  for  so  long  a  period  subsisted  —  or  (2),  Mr. 
Montagu  has  grossly  misrepresented  Wordsworth,  and 
most  cruelly  and  wantonly  injured  me  —  or  (3),  I  have 
wantonly  invented  and  deliberately  persevered  in  atrocious 
falsehoods,  which  place  me  in  the  same  relation  to  Mr. 
Montagu  as  (in  the  second  case)  Mr.  Montagu  woidd 
stand  in  to  me.  If,  therefore,  Mr.  Montagu  declares  to 
my  face  that  he  did  not  say  what  I  solemnly  aver  that 
he  did  —  what  must  be  the  consequence,  unless  I  am  a 
more  abject  coward  than  I  have  hitherto  suspected,  I  need 
not  say.  Be  the  consequences  what  they  may,  however, 
I  will  not  shrink  from  doing  my  duty ;  but  previously 
to  the  meeting  I  shoidd  very  much  wish  to  transmit  to 
Wordsworth  a  statement  which  I  long  ago  began,  with 
the  intention  of  sending  it  to  Mrs.  Wordsworth's  sister, 
—  but  desisted  in  consequence  of  understanding  that  she 
had  already  decided  the  matter  against  me.  My  reason 
for  wishing  this  is  that  I  think  it  right  that  Wordsworth 
should  know,  and  have  the  means  of  ascertaining,  some 
conversations  which  yet  I  coidd  not  publicly  bring  for- 
ward without  hazarding  great  disquiet  in  a  family  known 
(though  slightly)  to  Wordsworth  —  (2)  Because  common 
humanity  would  embarrass  me  in  stating  before  a  man 
what  I  and  others  think  of  his  wife  —  and  lastly,  certain 
other  points  which  my  own  delicacy  and  that  due  to 
Wordsworth  himself  and  his  family,  preclude  from  being 
talked  of.  For  Wordsworth  ought  not  to  forget  that, 
whatever  influence  old  associations  may  have  on  his  mind 
respecting  Montagu,  yet  that  /  never  respected  or  liked 
him  —  for  if  I  had  ever  in  a  common  degree  done  so,  I 
should  have  quarrelled  with  him  long  before  we  arrived  in 
London.  Yet  all  these  facts  ought  to  be  known — because 
supposing  Montagu  to  affirm  what  I  am  led  to  suppose  he 
has  —  then  nothing  remains  but  the  comparative  proba- 
bility of  our  two  accounts,  and  for  this  the  state  of  my 
feelings  towards  Wordsworth  and  his  family,  my  opinion 


588         JOURNALIST,  LECTURER,  PLAYWRIGHT      [May 

of  Mr.  ami  ]\Irs.  ^Montagu,  and  my  previous  intention  not 
to  lodge  with  tlieni  in  town,  are  important  documents  as 
far  as  they  do  not  rely  on  my  own  present  assertions. 
Woe  is  me,  that  a  friemlsliip  of  fifteen  years  should  come 
to  this !  and  such  a  friendship,  in  which  I  call  God  Al- 
mighty to  be  my  witness,  as  I  ever  thought  it  no  more 
than  my  duty,  so  did  1  ever  feel  a  readiness  to  prefer  him 
to  myself,  yea,  even  if  life  and  outward  reputation  itself 
had  been  the  pledge  required.  But  tliis  is  now  vain  talk- 
ins:.  Be  it,  however,  remembered  that  I  have  never  wan- 
dered  beyond  the  one  single  com]ilaint,  that  I  had  been  cru- 
elly and  unkindly  treated  —  that  I  made  no  charge  against 
my  friend's  veracity,  even  in  respect  to  his  charges  against 
me  —  that  I  have  explained  the  circumstance  to  those  only 
who  had  already  more  or  less  perfectly  become  accpiainted 
with  our  difference,  or  were  certain  to  hear  of  it  from  oth- 
ers, and  that  except  on  this  one  point,  no  word  of  re- 
proach, or  even  of  subtraction  from  his  good  name,  as  a 
good  man,  or  from  his  merits  as  a  great  man,  ever  escaped 
me.     May  God  bless  you,  my  dear  Charles. 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CLXXXVIII.    TO   TTrLLTAlM   -^VORDSTVOT^TH. 

71,  Berners  Street.  Monday,  May  4,  1812. 

I  will  divide  my  statement,  which  I  will  endeavour  to 
send  you  to-morrow,  into  two  parts,  in  separate  letters. 
The  latter,  commencing  from  the  Sunday  night,  28  Octo- 
ber, 1810,  that  is,  that  on  which  the  communication  was 
made  to  me,  and  which  will  contain  my  solemn  avowal  of 
what  was  said  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Montagu,  you  will  make 
what  use  of  you  please  —  but  the  former  I  write  to  you, 
and  in  confdence — yet  only  as  far  as  to  your  o\\ai  heart 
it  shall  appear  evident,  that  in  desiring  it  I  am  actuated 
by  no  wish  to  shrink  personally  from  any  test,  not  involv- 
ing an  acknowledgement  of  my  own  degradation,  and  so 
become  a  false  witness  against  myself,  but  only  by  del- 


1812]  TO  WILLIAM  WORDSWORTH  589 

icacy  t6wards   the  feelings   of  otliers,  and  the  dread  of 
spreading  the  curse   of   dissension.     But,   Wordsworth! 
the  very  message  you  sent  by  Lamb  and  which  Lamh  did 
not  deliver  to  me  from  the  anxiety  not  to  add  fuel  to  the 
flame,  sufficiently  proves  what  I  had  learnt  on  my  first 
arrival  at  Keswick,  and  which  alone  prevented  my  goino- 
to  Grasmere  —  namely,  that  you  had  prejudged  the  case. 
As  soon  as  I  was  informed  that  you  had  denied  having 
used  certain  expressions,  I  did  not  hesitate  a  moment  (nor 
was  it  in  my  power  to  do  so)  to  give  you  my  fullest  faith, 
and  approve  to  my  own  consciousness   the  truth  of  my 
declaration,  that  I  should  have  felt  it  as  a  blessin"-,  though 
my  life  had  the  same  instant  been  hazarded  as  the  pledge, 
could  I  with  firm  conviction  have  given  Montagu  the  lie, 
at  the  conclusion  of  his  story,  even  as,  at  the  very  first 
sentence,  I  exclaimed —  "  Impossible !     It  is  impossible  !  " 
The  expressions  denied  were  indeed  only  the  most  offen- 
sive part  to  the  feelings  —  but  at  the  same  time  I  learnt 
that  you  did  not  hesitate  instantly  to  express  your  convic- 
tion that  Montagu  never  said  those  words  and  that  I  had 
invented  them  —  or  (to  use  your  own  words)  "  had  for- 
gotten myself."     Grievously  indeed,  if  I  know  aught  of 
my  nature,  must  I  have  forgotten  both  myself  and  com- 
mon honesty,  could  I  have  been  villain  enough  to  have 
invented    and  persevered    in    such   atrocious   falsehoods. 
Your  message  was  that  "  if  I  declined  an  exj^lanation,  you 
begged  I  would  no  longer  continue  to  talk  about  the  af- 
fair."    When,  Wordsworth,  did  I  ever  decline  an  expla- 
nation ?     From  you  I  expected  one,  and  had  a  right  to 
expect  it  —  for  let  Montagu  have  added  what  he  may, 
still  that  which  remained  was  most  unkind  and  what  I 
had  little  deserved  from  you,  who  might  by  a  single  ques- 
tion have  learnt  from  me  that  I  never  made  up  my  mind 
to  lodge  with  Montagu  and  had  tacitly  acquiesced  in  it 
at  Keswick  to  tranquillise  Mrs.  Coleridge,  to  whom  ]Mrs. 
Montagu  had  made  the  earnest  professions  of  watching 


690         JOURNALIST,  LECTURER,  PLAYWRIGHT      [May 

and  nursing  me,  and  for  wlioiu  this  and  her  extreme  re- 
pugnance to  my  original,  and  nnich  wiser,  resohition  of 
going  to  Edinburgh  and  placing  myself  in  the  house,  and 
under  the  constant  eye,  of  some  medical  man,  were  the 
sole  iirounds  of  her  assent  that  I  should  leave  the  North  at 
all.  Yet  at  least  a  score  of  times  have  I  begun  to  write  a 
detailed  account,  to  Wales  ^  and  afterwards  to  Grasmere, 
and  gave  it  up  from  excess  of  agitation,  —  till  finally  I 
learnt  that  all  of  your  family  had  decided  against  me 
unheard  —  and  that  [you  begged]  /  would  no  loiKjer  talk 
about  it.  If,  Wordsworth,  you  had  but  done  me  the  com- 
mon justice  of  asking  those  with  whom  I  have  been  most 
intimate  and  confidential  since  my  first  arrival  in  Town  in 
Oct.,  1810,  you  would  have  received  other  negative  or  posi- 
tive proofs  how  little  I  needed  the  admonition  or  deserve 
the  sarcasm.  Talk  about  it  ?  O  God !  it  has  been  talked 
about !  and  that  it  had,  was  the  sole  occasion  of  my  dis- 
closing it  even  to  Mary  Lamb,  the  first  person  who  heard 
of  it  from  me  and  that  not  voluntarily  —  but  that  morn- 
ing a  friend  met  me,  and  communicated  what  so  agitated 
me  that  then  having  previously  meant  to  call  at  Lamb's  I 
was  compelled  to  do  so  from  faintness  and  universal  trem- 
bling, in  order  to  sit  down.  Even  to  her  I  did  not  intend 
to  mention  it ;  but  alarmed  by  the  wildness  and  jialeness 
of  my  countenance  and  agitation  I  had  no  power  to  con- 
ceal, she  entreated  me  to  tell  her  what  was  the  matter. 
In  the  first  attempt  to  speak,  my  feelings  overpowered  me ; 
an  agony  of  weeping  followed,  and  then,  alarmed  at  my 
own  imprudence  and  conscious  of  the  possible  effect  on 
her  health  and  mind  if  I  left  her  in  that  state  of  sus- 
pense, I  brought  out  convulsively  some  such  words  as  — 
"  Wordsworth,  Wordsworth  has  given  me  up.  He  has  no 
hope  of  me  —  I  have  been  an  absolute  nuisance  ^  in  his 

^  To  Miss  Sarah  Hutchinson,  then     these  words,  or  commissioned  Mon- 

livinp^  in  Wales.  tagu  to  repeat  tlieni  to  Coleridg-e,  is 

2  That   Wordsworth     ever    used     in   itself   improbable   and   was  sol- 


1812]  TO  WILLIAM  WORDSWORTH  591 

family  "  —  and  when  long  weeping  had  relieved  me,  and 
I  was  able  to  relate  the  occurrence  connectedly,  she  can 
bear  witness  for  me  that,  disgracefiil  as  it  was  that  I 
should  be  made  the  topic  of  vulgar  gossip,  yet  that  "  had 
the  whole  and  ten  times  more  been  proclaimed  by  a  speak- 
ing-trumpet from  the  chinnieys,  I  should  have  smiled  at  it 
—  or  indulged  indignation  only  as  far  as  it  excited  me  to 
pleasurable  activity — but  that  you  had  said  it,  this  and 
this  only,  was  the  sting  !  the  scorpion-tooth  I  "  Mr.  Mor- 
gan and  afterwards  his  wife  and  her  sister  were  made  ac- 
quainted with  the  whole  case  —  and  why  ?  Not  merely  that 
I  owed  it  to  their  ardent  friendship,  which  has  continued 
to  be  mainly  my  comfort  and  my  only  support,  but  because 
they  had  already  heard  of  it,  in  part  —  because  a  most 
intimate  and  dear  friend  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Montaou's  had 
urged  Mr.  Morgan  to  call  at  the  Montagus  in  order  to  be 
put  on  his  giiard  against  me.  He  came  to  me  instantly, 
told  me  that  I  had  enemies  at  work  against  my  character, 
and  pressed  me  to  leave  the  hotel  and  to  come  home  with 
him  —  with  whom  I  have  been  ever  since,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  a  few  intervals  when,  from  the  bitter  conscious- 
ness of  my  own  infirmities  and  increasing  irregularity  of 

emnly  denied  by  Wordsworth  him-  Montagu  to  fight  his  own  battles, 
seh^  But  Wordsworth  did  not  deny  The  cruel  words  which  Montagu  put 
that  with  the  best  motives  and  in  a  into  Wordsworth's  mouth  or  Cole- 
kindly  spirit  he  took  Montagu  into  ridge  in  his  agitation  and  resentment 
his  confidence  and  put  him  on  his  put  into  Montagu's,  were  but  the 
guard,  that  he  professed  "  to  have  salt  which  the  sufferer  rubbed  into 
no  hope  "  of  his  ohl  friend,  and  that  his  own  wound.  The  time,  the  man- 
with  regard  to  Coleridge's  "habits  "  ner,  and  the  person  combined  to  ag- 
he  might  have  described  them  as  a  gravate  his  misery  and  dismay, 
"nuisance"  in  his  family.  It  was  Judgment  had  been  delivered 
all  meant  for  the  best,  but  much  against  him  in  absentia,  and  the 
evil  and  misery  might  have  been  judge  was  none  other  than  his  own 
avoided  if  Wordsworth  had  warned  "familiar  friend."  Henry  Crabb 
Coleridge  tliat  if  he  should  make  Robinson's  Diary,  May  3-10,  1812, 
his  home  under  Mcmtngu's  roof  he  first  publislied  in  ii/e  q/"  W.  Words- 
could  not  keep  silence,  or,  better  worth,  ii.  168,  187. 
still,  if  he  had  kept  silence  and  left 


592         JOURNALIST,  LECTURER,  PLAYWRIGHT      []\Iay 

temper,  I  took  lodgings,  against  his  will,  and  was  always 
by  his  zealous  friendship  brought  back  again.  If  it  be 
allowed  to  call  any  one  on  earth  Saviour,  Morgan  and  his 
family  have  been  my  Saviours,  body  and  soul.  For  my 
moral  will  was,  and  I  fear  is,  so  weakened  relatively  to 
my  duties  to  myself,  that  I  cannot  act,  as  I  ouglit  to  do, 
except  under  the  influencing  knowledge  of  its  effects  on 
those  I  love  and  believe  myself  loved  by.  To  him  like- 
wise I  exi)lained  the  affair ;  but  neither  from  him  or  his 
family  has  one  word  ever  escaped  me  concerning  it.  Last 
autumn  Mr.  and  IVIrs.  Southey  came  to  town,  and  at  Mr. 
Ray's  at  Richmond,  as  we  were  walking  alone  in  the  gar- 
den, the  subject  was  introduced,  and  it  became  my  duty 
to  state  the  whole  affair  to  them,  even  as  the  means  of 
transmitting  it  to  you.  With  these  exceptions  I  do  not 
remember  ever  to  have  made  any  one  my  confidant  — 
though  in  two  or  three  instances  I  have  alluded  to  the 
suspension  of  our  familiar  intercourse  without  ex])lanation, 
but  even  here  only  where  I  knew  or  fully  believed  the 
persons  to  have  already  heard  of  it.  Such  was  Mrs.  Clai'k- 
son,  who  wrote  to  me  in  consequence  of  one  sentence  in  a 
letter  to  her ;  yet  even  to  her  I  entered  into  no  detail,  and 
disclosed  nothing  that  was  not  necessary  to  my  own  de- 
fence in  not  continuing  my  former  correspondence.  In 
short,  the  one  only  thing  which  I  have  to  blame  in  myself 
was  that  in  my  first  letter  to  Sir  G.  Beaumont  I  had  con- 
cluded with  a  desponding  remark  allusive  to  the  breach 
between  us,  not  in  the  slightest  degree  suspecting  that  he 
was  ignorant  of  it.  In  the  letters,  which  followed,  I  was 
compelled  to  say  more  (though  I  never  detailed  the  words 
which  had  been  uttered  to  me)  in  consequence  of  Lady 
Beaumont's  expressed  apprehension  and  alarm  lest  in  the 
advertisement  for  my  lectures  the  sentence  "concerning 
the  Living  Poets  "  contained  an  intention  on  my  part  to 
attack  your  literary  merits.  The  very  thought,  that  I 
could  be  imagined  capable  of  feeling  vindictively  toward 


1812]  TO   WILLIAM  WORDSWORTH  593 

you  at  all,  much  more  of  gratifying  the  passion  in  so  de- 
spicable as  well  as  detestable   manner,  agitated  me.     I 
sent  her  LadyshijD  the  verses  composed  after  your  recita- 
tion of  the  great  Poem  at  Coleorton,  and  desired  her  to 
judge  whether  it  was  j)ossible  that  a  man,  who  had  written 
that  poem,  could  be  capable  of  such  an  act,  and  in  a  letter 
to  Sir  G.  B.,  anxious  to  remove  from  his  mind  the  assump- 
tion that  I  had  been  agitated  by  the  disclosure  of  any  till 
then  vmknown  actions  of  mine  or  parts  of  conduct,  I  en- 
deavoured to  impress  him  with  the  real  truth  that  not  the 
facts  disclosed,  but  the  manner  and  time  and  the  person 
by  whom  and  the  person  to  whom  they  had  been  disclosed, 
formed  the  whole  ground  of  the  breach.     And  writing  in 
great  agitation  I  once  again  used  the  same  words  which 
had  venially  burst  from   me  the  moment  Montagu    had 
ended  his  account.    "  And  this  is  cruel !  this  is  base  .<'  "    I 
did  not  reflect  on  it  till  it  was  irrevocable  —  and  for  that 
one   word,  the  only  word  of  positive  reproach  that  ever 
escaped  from  me,  I    feel   sorrow  —  and  assure  you,  that 
there  is  no  permanent  feeling  in  my  heart  which  corre- 
sponds to  it.     Talk  about  it  ?     Those  who  have  seen  me 
and  been  with  me,  day  by  day,  for  so  many  many  months 
could  have  told  you,  how  anxiously  every  allusion  to  the 
subject  was  avoided  —  and  with  abundant  reason  —  for 
immediate  and  palpable  derangement  of  body  as  well  as 
spirits  regularly  followed  it.     Besides,  had  there  not  ex- 
isted in  your  mind  —  let  me  rather  say,  if  ever  there  had 
existed  any  portion  of  esteem  and  regard  for  me   since 
the  autumn  of  1810,  would  it  have  been  possible  that  your 
quick  and  powerful  judgement  could  have  overlooked  the 
gross  improbability,  that  I  should  first  invent  and  then 
scatter  abroad  for  talk  at  public  tables  the  phrases  which 
(Mr.    Robinson    yesterday   informed    me)    Mr.    Sharon 
Turner  was  indelicate  enough  to  trumpet  abroad  at  Long- 
man's table  ?     I  at  least  wiU  call  on  Mr.  Sharon  and  de- 
mand his  authority.     It  is  my  full  conviction,  that  in  no 


594         JOURNALIST,  LECTURER,  PLAYWRIGHT      [May 

one  of  the  huiulred  tables  at  wliich  any  particulars  of  our 
breach  have  been  mentioned,  could  the  authority  be  traced 
back  to  those  who  had  received  the  account  from  myself. 

It  seemed  unnatural  to  me,  nay,  it  was  unnatural  to  me 
to  write  to  you  or  to  any  of  your  family  with  a  cold  exclu- 
sion of  the  feelings  which  almost  overjiower  me  even  at  this 
moment,  and  I  therefore  write  this  })rc]>aratory  letter  to 
disburthen  my  heart,  as  it  were,  before  1  sit  down  to  detail 
my  recollections  simpl}^  and  unmixed  with  the  anguish 
which,  spite  of  my  best  efforts,  accompany  them. 

But  one  thing  more,  the  last  complaint  that  you  will 
hear  from  me,  perhaps.  When  without  my  knowledge 
dear  IVIary  Lamb,  just  then  on  the  very  verge  of  a  relapse, 
wrote  to  Grasmere,  was  it  kind  or  even  humane  to  have 
returned  such  an  answer,  as  Lamb  deemed  it  unadvisable 
to  shew  me ;  but  which  I  learnt  from  the  only  other  per- 
son, who  saw  the  answer,  amounted  in  substance  to  a 
sneer  on  my  reported  high  spirits  and  my  wearing  pow- 
der? When  and  to  whom  did  I  ever  make  a  merit  of 
my  sufferings  ?  Is  it  consistent  noio  to  charge  me  with 
going  about  complaining  to  everybody,  and  now  with 
my  high  spirits?  Was  I  to  carry  a  gloomy  face  into 
every  society  ?  or  ought  I  not  rather  to  be  grateful  that 
in  the  natural  activity  of  my  intellect  God  had  given  me 
a  counteracting  princijjle  to  the  intensity  of  my  feelings, 
and  a  means  of  escaping  from  a  part  of  the  pressure? 
But  for  this  I  had  been  driven  mad,  and  j^et  for  how  many 
months  was  there  a  continual  brooding  and  going  on  of 
the  one  gnawing  recollection  behind  the  curtain  of  my 
outward  being,  even  when  I  was  most  exerting  myself, 
and  exerting  myself  more  in  order  the  more  to  benumb 
it !     I  might  have  truly  said  with  Desdemona  :  — 

"  I  am  not  merry,  but  I  do  beguile 
The  Thing  I  am,  by  seeming  otherwise." 

And  as  to  the  powder,  it  was  first  put  "in  to  prevent  my 
taking  cold  after  my  hair  had  been  thinned,  and  I  was 


1812]  TO  DANIEL  STUART  595 

advised  to  continue  it  till  I  became  wholly  grey,  as  in 
its  then  state  it  looked  as  if  I  had  dirty  powder  in  my 
hair,  and  even  when  known  to  be  only  the  everywhere- 
mixed-grey,  yet  contrasting  with  a  face  even  younger  than 
my  real  age  it  gave  a  queer  and  contradictory  character 
to  my  whole  appearance.  Whatever  be  the  result  of  this 
long-delayed  explanation,  I  have  loved  you  and  j'ours  too 
long  and  too  deeply  to  have  it  in  my  own  power  to  cease 
to  do  so. 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CLXXXIX.    TO   DANIEL   STUART. 

May  8,  1812. 

My  dear  Stuart,  —  I  send  you  seven  or  eight  tick- 
ets,^ entreating  you,  if  pre-engagements  or  your  health 
does  not  preclude  it,  to  bring  a  group  with  you ;  as  many 
ladies  as  possible ;  but  gentlemen  if  you  cannot  muster 
ladies  —  for  else  I  shall  not  only  have  been  left  in  the 
lurch  as  to  the  actual  receipts  by  my  great  patrons  (the 
five  hundred  half-promised  are  likely  to  shrink  below 
fifty)  but  shall  absolutely  make  a  ridiculous  appearance. 
The  tickets  are  transferable.  If  "you  can  find  occasion 
for  more,  pray  send  for  them  to  me,  as  (what  it  really 
will  be)  a  favour  done  to  myself. 

1  The  tickets  were  numbered  and  contain  Six  Lectures,  at  One  Guinea, 
signed  by  the  lecturer.  Printed  The  Tickets  Transferable.  An  Ac- 
cards  which  were  issued  by  way  of  count  is  opened  at  Mess.  Ransom 
advertisement  contained  the  follow-  Morland  &  Co.,  Bankers,  Pall  Mall, 
ing  announcement :  —  in  the  names  of  Sir  G.  Beaumont, 

"  Lectukes  on  the  Drama.  Bart.,    Sir   T.    Bernard,   Bart.,  W. 

"  Mr.  Coleridge  proposes  to  give  Sotheby,  Esq.,  where  Subscriptions 

a  series  of  Lectures  on  the  Drama  will  be  received,  and  Tickets  issued. 

of  the   Greek,  French,  English  and  The  First  Lecture  on  Tuesday,  the 

Spanish  stage,  chiefly  with  Ptefer-  12th  of   May.  —  S.  T.  C,  71,  Ber- 

ence  to  the  Works  of  Shakespeare,  ners  St." 

at  Willis's  Rooms,  King  Street,  St.  For  an  account  of  the  first  fonr 

James's,  on  the  Tuesdays  and  Fri-  lectures,  see  H.  C.  Robinson's  Diary, 

days  in   May   and  June   at  Three  i.  385-388. 
o'clock  precisely.     The  Course  will 


596  JOURNALIST,  LECTURER,  PLAYWRIGHT       [May 

I  am  anxious  to  see  you,  and  to  learn  how  far  Bath  has 
Improved  or  (to  use  a  fashionable  slang  phrase)  disim- 
proved  your  health. 

Sir  James  and  Lady  IMaekintosh  are  I  hear  at  Bath 
Hotel,  Jermyn  Street.  Do  you  think  it  will  be  taken 
amiss  if  I  enelosed  two  or  three  tickets  and  cards  with 
my  respectful  congratulations  on  his  safe  return.^  I 
abhor  the  doing  anything  that  could  be  even  interpreted 
into  servility,  and  yet  feel  increasingly  the  necessity  of 
not  neglecting  the  courtesies  of  life.  .  .  . 

God  bless  you,  my  dear  sir,  and  your  obliged  and  affec- 
tionate friend, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

P.  S.  Mr.  Morgan  has  left  his  card  for  you. 

CXC.    TO   WILLIAM   WORDSWORTH. 

71,  Berners  Street, 
Monday  afternoon,  3  o'clock,  May  11,  1812. 

My  dear  Wordsworth,  —  I  declare  before  God  Al- 
mighty that  at  no  time,  even  in  my  sorest  affliction,  did 
even  the  possibility  occur  to  me  of  ever  doubting  your 
word.  I  never  ceased  for  a  moment  to  have  faith  in  you, 
to  love  and  revere  you ;  though  I  was  unable  to  explain 
an  unkindness,  which  seemed  anomalous  in  your  char- 
acter. Doubtless  it  would  have  been  better,  wiser,  and 
more  worthy  of  my  relation  to  you,  had  I  immediately 
written  to  you  a  full  account  of  what  had  happened  — 
especially  as  the  person's  language  concerning  your  fam- 
ily was  such  as  nothing  but  the  wild  general  counter- 
panegyric  of  the  same  person  almost  in  the  same  breath  of 
yourself  —  as  a  converser,  etc., — could  have  justified  me 
in  not  resenting  to  the  uttermost  .  .  .^  All   these,  added 

*  From  Bombay.  stances  which  seemed  to  justify  mis- 

2  I  have  followed  Professor  Knight  understanding."     The  alleged  facts 

in  omitting  a  passage  in  which  "  he  throw  no  light  on  the  relations  be- 

gives  a  lengthened  list  of    circum-  tween  Coleridge  and  Wordsworth. 


1812]  TO   ROBERT  SOUTHEY  597 

to  what  I  mentioned  in  my  letter  to  you,  may  not  justify, 
but  yet  must  palliate,  the  only  offence  I  ever  committed 
against  you  in  deed  or  word  or  thought  —  that  is,  the  not 
writing  to  you  and  trusting  instead  to  our  common 
friends.  Since  I  left  you  my  pocket  books  have  been  my 
only  full  confidants,^  —  and  though  instructed  by  pru- 
dence to  write  so  as  to  be  intelligible  to  no  being  on  earth 
but  yourself  and  your  family,  they  for  eighteen  months 
together  would  furnish  proof  that  in  anguish  or  indura- 
tion I  yet  never  ceased  both  to  honour  and  love  you. 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

I  need  not  say,  of  course,  that  your  presence  at  the 
Lectures,  or  anywhere  else,  will  be  gratifying  to  me. 

CXCI.    TO   ROBERT   SOUTHEY. 

[May  12,  1812.] 

My  dear  Southey,  —  The  awful  event  of  yester-af- 
ternoon  has  forced  me  to  defer  my  Lectures  to  Tuesday, 
the  19th,  by  advice  of  all  my  patrons.  The  same  thought 
struck  us  all  at  the  same  moment,  so  that  our  letters 
might  be  said  to  meet  each  other.  I  write  now  to  urge 
you,  if  it  be  in  your  power,  to  give  one  day  or  two  of  your 
time  to  write  something  in  your  impressive  way  on  that 
theme  which  no  one  I  meet  seems  to  feel  as  they  ought  to 
do,  —  which,  I  find  scarcely  any  but  ourselves  estimate 
according  to  its  true  gigantic  magnitude  —  I  mean  the 
sinking  down  of  Jacobinism  below  the  middle  and  tolera- 
bly educated  classes  into  the  readers  and  all-swallowing 

^  The    cryptogratn    which    Cole-  pert  would  probably  decipher  nine 

ridge  invented  for  his  own  use  was  tenths   of    these    memoranda    at    a 

based  on  the  arbitrary  selection  of  glance,  but  here  and  tliere  the  words 

letters  of  the  Greek  as  equivalents  symbolised  are  themselves  anagrams 

to  letters  of  the  English  alphabet,  of  Greek,  Latin,  and  German  words, 

The    vowels   were    represented    by  and.  in  a  few  instances,  the  clue  is 

English  letters,  by  the  various  points,  hard  to  seek, 
and  by  algebraic  symbols.     An  ex- 


598         JOURNALIST,   LECTURER,   PLAYWRIGHT      [May 

auditors  in  tap-rooms,  etc. ;  and  the  [political  sentiments  in 
the]  "  Statesman,"  "  Examiner,"  eto.  I  have  ascertained 
that  throughout  the  great  manufacturing  counties,  Whit- 
bread's,  Burdett's,  and  Waithman's  speeches  and  the  lead- 
ing articles  of  the  "Statesman"  and  "  Examiner "  are 
printed  in  ballad  [shape]  and  sold  at  a  halfpenny  or  a 
penny  each.  I  was  turned  numb,  and  then  sick,  and  then 
into  a  convulsive  state  of  weeping  on  the  first  tidings  — 
just  as  if  Perceval^  had  been  my  near  and  personal 
friend.  But  good  God !  the  atrocious  sentiments  univer- 
sal among  the  popidace,  and  even  the  lower  order  of 
householders.  On  my  return  from  the  "  Courier,"  where 
I  had  been  to  offer  my  services  if  I  could  do  anything 
for  them  on  this  occasion,  I  was  faint  from  the  heat  and 
much  walking,  and  took  that  opportunity  of  going  into 
the  tap-room  of  a  large  public  house  frequented  about 
one  o'clock  by  the  lower  orders.  It  was  really  shocking, 
nothing  but  exultation !  Burdett's  health  drank  with  a 
clatter  of  pots  and  a  sentiment  given  to  at  least  fifty 
men  and  women  —  "  May  Burdett  soon  be  the  man  to 
have  sway  over  us  !  "  These  were  the  very  words,  "  This 
is  but  the  beginning."  "  More  of  these  damned  scoun- 
drels must  go  the  same  way,  and  then  poor  people  may 
live."  "  Every  man  might  maintain  his  family  decent 
and  comfortable,  if  the  money  were  not  picked  out  of 
our  pockets  by  these  damned  placemen."  "  God  is  above 
the  devil,  /  say,  and  down  to  Hell  with  him  and  all 
his  brood,  the  Ministers,  men  of  Parliament  fellows." 
"  They  won't  hear  Burdett ;  no  I  he  is  a  Christian  man 
and  speaks  for  the  poor,"  etc.,  etc.  I  do  not  think  I 
have  altered  a  word. 

My  love  to  Sara,  and  I  have  received  everything  right. 
The  plate  will  go  as  desired,  and  among  it  a  present  to 
Sariola  and  Edith  from  good  old  Mr.  Brent,  who  had 

1  The  Right  Honourable  Spencer     Bellingham,   in    the   lobby   of    the 
Perceval  was  shot  by  a  man  named     House  of  Commons,  May  11,  1812. 


1812]  TO   WILLIAM  WORDSWORTH  599 

great  deliglit  in  hearing  them  talked  of.  It  was  wholly 
the  old  gentleman's  own  thought.     Bless  them  both  ! 

The  affair  between  Wordsworth  and  me  seems  settled, 
much  against  my  first  expectation  from  the  message  I  re- 
ceived from  him  and  his  refusal  to  open  a  letter  from  me. 
I  have  not  yet  seen  him,  but  an  explanation  has  taken 
place.  I  sent  by  Robinson  an  attested,  avowed  statement 
of  what  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Montagu  told  me,  and  Wordsworth 
has  sent  me  an  unequivocal  denial  of  the  whole  in  sjnrit 
and  of  the  most  offensive  passages  in  letter  as  well  as 
spirit,  and  I  instantly  informed  him  that  were  ten  thou- 
sand Montagus  to  swear  against  it,  I  should  take  his 
word,  not  ostensibly  only,  but  with  inward  faith ! 

To-morrow  I  will  write  out  the  passage  from  "  Apu- 
leius,"  and  send  the  letter  to  Rickman.  It  is  seldom  that 
want  of  leisure  can  be  fairly  stated  as  an  excuse  for  not 
writing ;  but  really  for  the  last  ten  days  I  can  honestly 
do  it,  if  you  will  but  allow  a  due  portion  to  agitated  feel- 
ings. The  subscription  is  languid  indeed  compared  with 
the  expectations.  Sir  T.  Bernard  almost  pledged  himself 
for  my  success.  However,  he  has  done  his  best,  and 
so  has  Lady  Beaumont,  who  herself  procured  me  near 
thirty  names.  I  should  have  done  better  by  myself  for 
the  present,  but  in  the  future  perhaps  it  will  be  better  as 
it  is. 

CXCII.    TO   WILLIAM    WORDSWORTH.^ 

71,  Berners  Street, 
Monday  noon,  December  7,  1812. 

Write  ?  My  dear  Friend  !  Oh  that  it  were  in  my  power 
to  be  with  you  myself  instead  of  my  letter.    The  Lectures 

1  The  occasion  of  this  letter  was  immediate  reply  was  sent  to  Cole- 
the  death  of  Wordsworth's  son,  ridge."  We  have  it,  on  the  author- 
Thomas,  which  took  place  Decern-  itv  of  Mr.  Clarkson,  that  when 
ber  1,  1812.  It  would  seem,  as  Pro-  Wordsworth  and  Dorothy  did  write, 
fessor  Knight  intimates,  that  the  in  the  spring  of  the  following  year, 
letter  was  not  altogether  acceptable  inviting  liim  to  Grasmere,  their  let- 
to  the  Wordsworths,  and  that  "  no  ters  remained  unanswered,  and  that 


600        JOURNALIST,  LECTURP:R,  PLAYWRIGHT       [Dec. 

I  could  give  up ;  but  the  rehearsal  of  my  Play  commences 
this  week,  and  upon  this  depends  my  best  hopes  of  leaving 
town  after  Christmas,  and  living  among  you  as  long  as  I 
live.  Strange,  strange  are  the  coincidences  of  things! 
Yesterday  Martha  Frieker  dined  here,  and  after  tea  I  had 
asked  question  after  question  respecting  your  children, 
first  one,  then  tlie  other ;  but,  more  than  all,  concerning 
Thomas,  till  at  length  Mrs.  Morgan  said, "  What  ails  you, 
Coleridge  ?  AVhy  don't  you  talk  about  Hartley,  Derwent, 
and  Sara? "  And  not  two  hours  ago  (for  the  whole  fam- 
ily were  late  from  bed)  I  was  asked  what  was  the  matter 
with  my  eyes  ?  I  told  the  fact,  that  I  had  awoke  three 
times  during  the  night  and  morning,  and  at  each  time 
found  my  face  and  part  of  the  pillow  wet  with  tears. 
"  Were  you  dreaming  of  the  Words  worths  ?  "  she  asked. 
—  "Of  the  children?"  I  said,  "No!  not  so  much  of 
them,  but  of  Mrs.  W.  and  Miss  Hutchinson,  and  yourself 
and  sister." 

Mrs.  Morgan  and  her  sister  are  come  in,  and  I  have 
been  relieved  by  tears.  The  sharp,  sharp  pang  at  the 
heart  needed  it,  when  they  reminded  me  of  my  words  the 
very  yester-night :  "It  is  not  possible  that  I  should  do 
otherwise  than  love  Wordsworth's  children,  all  of  them ; 
but  Tom  is  nearest  my  heart  —  I  so  often  have  him  be- 
fore my  eyes,  sitting  on  the  little  stool  by  my  side,  while 

•when  tLe  news  came  that  Coleridge  light  of  Hope  "  died  away,  he  was 

was  about  to  leave  London  for  the  left  to  face  the  world  and  himself  as 

seaside,  a  fresh  wound  was  inflicted,  best  or  as  worst  he  could.     Of  the 

and   fresh   offence    taken.     As  Mr.  months   which    intervened    between 

Dykes  Campbell  has   pointed   out,  March  and  September,  1813,  there 

the  consequences  of  this  second  rup-  is  no  record,  and  we  can  only  guess 

ture  were  fatal  to  Coleridge's  peace  that  he  remained  with  liis  kind  and 

of  mind  and  to  his  well-being  gener-  patient  hosts,  the  Morgans,  sick  in 

ally.     The  brief  spell  of  success  and  body  and    broken-hearted.     Life  of 

prosperity  which  attended  the  rep-  W.     Wordsworth,    ii.    182  ;     Samuel 

resentation  of  "  Remorse  "  inspired  Taylor  Coleridge,  a  Narrative,  by  J. 

him  for  a  few  weeks  with  unnatural  Dykes  Campbell,  1894,  pp.  193-197. 
courage,  but  as  the  ''  pale  imwarming 


1812]  TO   WILLIAM  WORDSWORTH  601 

I  was  writing  my  essays ;  and  how  quiet  and  happy  the 
affectionate  little  fellow  woidd  be  if  he  could  but  touch 
one,  and  now  and  then  be  looked  at." 

O  dearest  friend !  what  comfort  can  I  afford  you  ?  "What 
comfort  ought  I  not  to  afford,  who  have  given  you  so 
much  pain?  Sympathy  deep,  of  my  whole  being.  .  .  . 
In  grief,  and  in  joy,  in  the  anguish  of  perplexity,  and  in 
the  fulness  and  overflow  of  confidence,  it  has  been  ever 
what  it  is !  There  is  a  sense  of  the  word.  Love,  in  which 
I  never  felt  it  but  to  you  and  one  of  your  household  !  I 
am  distant  from  you  some  hundred  miles,  but  glad  I  am 
that  I  am  no  longer  distant  in  spirit,  and  have  faith,  that 
as  it  has  happened  but  once,  so  it  never  can  happen  again. 
An  awful  truth  it  seems  to  me,  and  prophetic  of  our  fu- 
ture, as  well  as  declarative  of  our  present  I'eal  nature,  that 
one  mere  thought,  one  feeling  of  suspicion,  jealousy,  or 
resentment  can  remove  two  human  beings  farther  from 
each  other  than  winds  or  seas  can  separate  their  bodies. 

The  words  "  religious  fortitude  "  occasion  me  to  add 
that  my  faith  in  our  progressive  nature,  and  in  all  the 
doctrinal  facts  of  Christianity,  is  become  habitual  in  my 
understanding,  no  less  than  in  my  feelings.  More  cheer- 
ing illustrations  of  our  survival  I  have  never  received,  than 
from  the  recent  study  of  the  instincts  of  animals,  their 
clear  heterogeneity  from  the  reason  and  moral  essence 
of  man  and  yet  the  beautiful  analogy.  Especially,  on 
the  death  of  children,  and  of  the  mind  in  childhood,  alto- 
gether, many  thoughts  have  accmnidated,  from  which  I 
hope  to  derive  consolation  from  that  most  oppressive  feel- 
ing which  hurries  in  upon  the  first  anguish  of  such  tidings 
as  I  have  received ;  the  sense  of  uncertainty,  the  fear  of 
enjopnent,  the  pale  and  deathy  gleam  thrown  over  the 
countenances  of  the  living,  whom  we  love.  .  .  .  But  this 
is  bad  comforting.  Your  own  virtues,  your  own  love 
itself,  must  give  it.  Mr.  De  Quincey  has  left  town,  and 
will  by  this  time  have  arrived  at  Grasmere.     On  Sunday 


602       JOURNALIST,  LECTURER,  PLAYWRIGHT       [Jan. 

last  I  gave  him  a  letter  for  yoii ;  but  he  (I  have  heard) 
did  not  leave  town  till  Thursday  night,  by  what  accidents 
prevented  I  know  not.  In  the  oppression  of  spirits  under 
which  I  wrote  that  letter,  I  did  not  make  it  clear  that  it 
was  only  Mr.  Josiah's  half  of  the  annuity  ^  that  was  with- 
drawn from  me.  My  answer,  of  course,  breathed  nothing 
but  gratitude  for  the  past. 

I  will  write  in  a  few  days  again  to  you.  To-morrow  is 
my  lecture  night,  "  On  the  liuman  causes  of  the  spread 
of  Christianity,  and  its  effects  after  the  establishment 
of  Christendom."  Dear  Mary !  dear  Dorothy  I  dearest 
Sara !  Oh,  be  assured,  no  thought  relative  to  myself  has 
half  the  influence  in  inspiring  the  wish  and  effort  to 
ap2iear  and  to  act  what  I  always  in  my  will  and  heart 
have  been,  as  the  knowledge  that  few  things  could  more 
console  you  than  to  see  me  healthy,  and  \vorthy  of  my- 
self I     Again  and  again,  my  dearest  Wordsworth  !  I  !     I 

am  affectionately  and  truly  yours, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CXCIII.    TO   HIS   WIFE. 

Wednesday  afternoon  [January  20,]  18[1.3]. 

My  dear  Sara,  —  Hitherto  the  "  Remorse  "  has  met 
with  unexampled  applause^  but  whether  it  will  continue 
to  fill  the  house,  that  is  quite  another  question,  and  of 
this,  my  f)-iends  are,  in  my  opinion,  far,  far  too  sanguine. 
I  have  disposed  not  of  the  copyright  but  of  edition  by 
edition  to  Mr.  Pople,  on  terms  advantageous  to  me  as  an 
author  and  honourable  to  him  as  a  publisher.  The  ex- 
penses of  printing  and  paper  (at  the  trade-price)  adver- 
tising, etc.,  are  to  be  deducted  from  the  total  produce, 
and  the  net  profits  to  be  divided  into  three  equal  parts,  of 
which  Pople  is  to  have  one,  and  I  the  other  two.  And  at 
any  future  time,  I  may  publish  it  in  any  volume  of  my 
poems  collectively.  Mr.  Arnold  (the  manager)  has  just 
1  See  Letter  CXCV.,  p.  611,  note  2. 


1813]  TO   HIS   WIFE  603 

left  me.  He  called  to  urge  me  to  exert  myself  a  little 
with  regard  to  the  daily  press,  and  brought  with  him 
"  The  Times  "  ^  of  Monday  as  a  specimen  of  the  infernal 
lies  of  which  a  newspaper  scribe  can  be  capable.  Not 
only  is  not  one  sentence  in  it  true ;  but  every  one  is  in 
the  direct  face  of  a  palpable  truth.  The  misrepresenta- 
tions must  have  been  wilfid.  I  must  now,  therefore, 
write  to  "  The  Times,"  and  if  Walter  refuses  to  insert,  I 
will  then,  recording  the  circmnstance,  publish  it  in  the 
"Morning  Post,"  "Morning  Chronicle,"  and  "The 
Courier."  The  dirty  malice  of  Antony  Pasquin^  in 
the  "  Morning  Herald  "  is  below  notice.  This,  however, 
will  explain  to  you  why  the  shortness  of  this  letter,  the 
main  business  of  which  is  to  desire  you  to  draw  upon 
Brent  and  Co.,  No.  103  Bishopsgate  Street  Within,  for  an 
hundred  pounds,  at  a  month's  date  from  the  drawing,  or, 
if  that  be  objected  to,  for  tlu-ee  weeks,  only  let  me  know 
which.  In  the  course  of  a  month  I  have  no  hesitation  in 
promising  you  another  hundred,  and  I  hope  likewise 
before  Midsummer,  if  God  grant  me  life,  to  repay  you 
whatever  you  have  expended  for  the  childi'en. 

^  The  notice  of  "  Remorse "  in  to  Osorio,  London,  1873,  contains 
The  Times,  though  it  condemned  the  selections  of  press  notices  of  "Re- 
play as  a  whole,  was  not  altogether  morse,"  and  other  interesting  mat- 
iincomplimentary,  and  would  be  ac-  ter.  See,  too,  Poetical  Works,  Ed- 
cepted  at  the  present  day  by  the  itor's  Note  on  "  Remorse,"  pp.  6-19- 
majority  of  critics  as  just  and  fair.  0.51. 

It  was,  no  doubt,  the  didactic  and  ^  John  Williams,  described  by  Ma- 
patronising  tone  adopted  towards  the  caulay  as  "  a  filthy  and  malignant 
author  which  excited  Coleridge's  baboon,"  who  wrote  under  the 
indignation.  "We  speak,"  writes  pseudonym  of  "  Anthony  Pasquin," 
the  reviewer,  "  with  restraint  and  emigrated  to  America  early  in  this 
unwillingly  of  the  defects  of  a  work  century.  In  1S04  lie  published  a 
which  must  have  cost  its  author  so  work  in  Boston,  and  there  is,  appar- 
much  labour.  We  are  peculiarly  re-  ently,  no  reason  to  suppose  that  he 
luctant  to  touch  the  anxieties  of  a  subsequently  returned  to  England, 
man,"  etc.  The  notice  in  the  Morn-  Either  Coleridge  was  in  error  or  he 
ing  Post  was  friendly  and  flattering  uses  tlie  term  generally  for  a  scurri- 
in  the  highest  degree.     The  preface  lous  critic. 


604         JOURNALIST,  LECTURER,  PLAYWRIGHT       [Feb. 

My  wishes  and  purposes  concerning  Hartley  and  Der- 
went  I  will  communicate  as  soon  as  this  bustle  and 
endless  rat-a-tat-tat  at  our  door  is  somewhat  over.  I 
concluded  my  Lectures  last  night  most  ti'iumphantly. 
with  loud,  long,  and  enthusiastic  applauses  at  my  en- 
trance, and  ditto  in  yet  fidler  chorus  as,  and  for  some 
minutes  after  I  had  retired.  It  was  lucky  that  (as  I 
never  once  thought  of  the  Lecture  till  I  had  entered  the 
Lecture  Box),  the  two  last  were  the  most  impressive  and 
really  the  best.  I  suppose  that  no  diamatic  author  ever 
had  so  large  a  number  of  unsolicited,  unknown  yet  •prede- 
termined plauditors  in  the  theatre,  as  I  had  on  Satur- 
day night.  One  of  the  malignant  papers  asserted  that  I 
had  collected  all  the  saints  from  Mile  End  turnpike  to 
Tyburn  Bar.  With  so  many  warm  friends,  it  is  impos- 
sible, in  the  present  state  of  human  nature,  that  I  should 
not  have  many  unprovoked  and  unknown  enemies.  You 
will  have  heard  that  on  my  entering  the  box  on  Saturday 
night,  I  was  discovered  by  the  pit,  and  that  they  all 
turned  their  faces  towards  our  box,  and  gave  a  treble 
cheer  of  claps. 

I  mention  these  things  because  it  will  please  Southey 
to  hear  that  there  is  a  large  number  of  persons  in  Lon- 
don who  hail  with  enthusiasm  my  prospect  of  the  stage's 
being  purified  and  rendered  classical.  My  success,  if  I 
succeed  (of  which  I  assure  you  I  entertain  doubts  in  my 
opinion  well  founded,  both  from  the  want  of  a  prominent 
actor  for  Ordonio,  and  from  the  want  of  vulgar  pathos  in 
the  play  itself  —  nay,  there  is  not  enough  even  of  true 
dramatic  pathos),  but  if  I  succeed,  I  succeed  for  others 
as  well  as  myseK.  .  .  . 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

P.  S.  I  pray  yov^  my  dear  Sara !  do  take  on  yourself 
the  charge  of  instantly  sending  off  by  the  waggon  Mr. 
Sotheby's  folio  edition  of  all  Petrarch's  Works,  which  I 


1813]  TO  ROBERT  SOUTHEY  605 

left  at  Grasmere.  (I  am  ashamed  to  meet  Sotheby  till 
I  have  returned  it.)  At  the  same  time  my  quarto  MS. 
Book  with  the  German  Musical  Play  in  it,i  and  the  two 
folio  volumes  of  the  Greek  Poets  may  go.  For  I  want 
them  hourly  and  I  must  try  to  imitate  W.  Scott^in  making 
hay  while  the  sun  shines. 

Kisses  and  heartfelt  loves  for  my  sweet  Sara,  and 
scarce  less  for  dear  little  Herbert  and  Edith. 

CXCIV.    TO   EGBERT   SOUTHEY. 

71,  Berners  Street,  Tuesday,  February  8,  1813. 

My  dear  Southey,  —  It  is  seldom  that  a  man  can  with 
literal  truth  apologise  for  delay  in  writing ;  but  for  the 
last  three  weeks  I  have  had  more  upon  my  hands  and 
spirits  than  my  health  was  equal  to. 

The  first  copy  I  can  procure  of  the  second  edition  (of 
the  play)  I  will  do  my  best  to  get  franked  to  you.  You 
will,  I  hope,  think  it  much  improved  as  a  poem.  Dr.  Bell, 
who  is  all  kindness  and  goodness,  came  to  me  in  no  small 
bustle  this  morning  in  consequence  of  "  a  censure  passed 
on  the  '  Remorse '  by  a  man  of  great  talents,  both  in  prose 
and  verse,  who  was  impartial,  and  thought  higldy  of  the 
work  on  the  whole."  What  was  it,  think  you  ?  There 
were  many  unequal  lines  in  the  Play,  but  which  he  did 
not  choose  to  specify.  Dr.  Bell  would  not  mention  the 
critic's  name,  but  was  very  earnest  with  me  to  jarocure 
some  indifferent  person  of  good  sense  to  read  it  over,  by 
way  of  spectacles  to  an  author's  own  dim  judgement.  Soon 
after  he  left  me  I  discovered  that  the  critic  was  Gifford, 
who  had  said  good-naturedly  that  I  ought  to  be  whipt  for 
leaving  so  many  weak  and  slovenly  lines  in  so  fine  a  poem. 
What  the  lines  were  he  would  not  say  and  /do  not  care. 

1  This  note-book  must  have  passed  passed  into  the  hands  of  my  father, 

out  of  Coleridge's  possession  in  his  The  two  folio  volumes  of  the  Greek 

life-time,  for  it  is  not  among  those  Poets  were  in  my  father's  library, 

which   were  bequeathed  to  Joseph  and  are  now  in  my  possession. 
Henry     Green,     and    subsequently 


606         JOURN.VLIST,  LECTURER,  PLAYWRIGHT       [Feb. 

Inequalities  liave  every  poem,  even  an  Epio  —  much  more 
a  Dramatic  Poem  must  have  anil  ought  to  have.  The 
question  is,  are  they  in  their  own  place  dlssoiiances  ?  If 
so  I  am  the  last  man  to  stickle  for  them,  who  am  nick- 
named in  the  Green  Room  the  "  anomalous  author,"  from 
my  utter  indifference  or  prompt  facility  in  sanctioning 
every  omission  that  was  suggested.  That  paragra])h  in  the 
"  Quarterly  Review  "  ^  respecting  me,  as  ridiculed  in  "  Re- 
jected Addresses,"  was  surely  unworthy  of  a  man  of  sense 
like  Gifford.  What  reason  coidd  he  have  to  suppose  me 
a  man  so  childishly  irritable  as  to  be  provoked  by  a  trifle 
so  contemptible  ?  If  he  had,  how  coidd  he  think  it  a  j^arody 
at  all  ?  But  the  noise  which  the  "  Rejected  Addresses  " 
made,  the  notice  taken  of  Smith  the  author  by  Lord  Hol- 
land, Byron,  etc.,  give  a  melancholy  confirmation  of  my 
assertion  in  "  The  Friend  "  that  "  we  worship  the  vilest 
reptile  if  only  the  brainless  head  be  expiated  by  the  sting 
of  personal  malignity  in  the  tail."  I  wish  I  could  pro- 
cure for  you  the  "  Examiner "  and  Drakard's  London 
Paper.  They  were  forced  to  affect  admiration  of  the 
Tragedy,  but  yet  abuse  me  they  must,  and  so  comes  the 
old  infamous  crambe  bis  milUes  coda  of  the  "  sentimental- 
ities, puerilities,  whinings,  and  meannesses,  both  of  style 
and  thought,"  in  my  former  writings,  but  without  (which 
is  worth  notice  both  in  these  gentlemen  and  in  all  our 
former  Zoili),  without  one  single  quotation  or  reference  in 
proof  or  exemplification.  No  wonder!  for  excepting  the 
"  Three  Graves,"  which  was  announced  as  not  meant  for 
poetr}^  and  the  poem  on  the  Tethered  Ass,  with  the  motto 
Sermoni   iwo-priora^   and    which,   like    your    "  Dancing 

^  "  Mr.  Colridg'e  {siic)  will  not,  we  -  The  motto  "  Sermoni  propriora," 

fear,  be  as  much  entertained  as  we  translated   by  Lamb  "  properer  for 

were  with  his  '  Playhouse  Musings,'  a  sermon,"  was  prefixed  to  "  Reflec- 

whieh  begin  with  characteristic  pa-  tions  on  having  left  a  Place  of  Re- 

thos  and  simplicity,  and  put  us  much  tirement."     The  lines  "  To  a  Young 

in  mind  of  the  afEecting  story  of  old  Ass  "  were   originally  published  in 

Poulter's  mare."  the  Morning  Chronicle,  December  30, 


1813]  TO  ROBERT  SOUTHEY  607 

Bear,"  might  be  called  a  ludicro-spleuetic  co]3y  of  verses, 
witli  the  diction  purposely  aj)propriate,  they  might  (as  at 
the  first  appearance  o£  my  poems  they  did)  find,  indeed,  all 
the  opiJosite  vices.    But  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  Preface 
to  W.'s  "Lyrical  Ballads,"'  they  would  never  themselves 
have    dreamt    of    affected    simplicity    and    meanness   of 
thought  and  diction.     This  slang  has  gone  on  for  fourteen 
or  fifteen  years  against  us,  and  really  deserves  to  be  ex- 
posed.    As  far  as  my  judgement  goes,  the  two  best  quali- 
ties of  the  tragedy  are,  first,  the  simplicity  and  unity  of 
the  plot,  in  respect  of  that  which,  of  all  the  unities,  is  the 
only  one  founded  on  good  sense  —  the  presence  of  a  one 
all-pervading,  all-combining  Principle.      By  Remorse  I 
mean  the  anguish  and  disquietude  arising  from  the  self- 
contradiction  introduced  into  the  soul  by  guilt,  a  feeling 
which  is  good  or  bad  according  as  the  will  makes  use  of 
it.     This  is  expressed  in  the  lines  chosen  as  the  motto :  — 
Remorse  is  as  the  heart  in  which  it  grows  : 
If  that  be  gentle,  it  drops  balmy  dews 
Of  true  repentance  ;  but  if  proud  and  gloomy, 
It  is  a  poison  tree  that,  pierced  to  the  inmost, 
Weeps  only  tears  of  poison  !  Act  i.  sc.  1. 

And  Remorse  is  everywhere  distinguished  from  virtuous 
penitence.  To  excite  a  sanative  remorse  Alvar  returns, 
the  Passion  is  put  in  motion  at  Ordonio's  first  entrance 
by  the  appearance  of  Isidore's  wife,  etc. ;  it  is  carried  still 
higher  by  the  narration  of  Isidore,  Act  ii.  sc.  1  ;  higher 
still  by  the  interview  with  the  supposed  wizard ;  and  to 
its  acme  by  the  Incantation  Scene  and  Picture.  Now, 
then,  we  are  to  see  its  effects  and  to  exemplify  the  second 
part  of  the  motto,  "  but  if  proud  and  gloomy.  It  is  a  poi- 
son tree,"  etc.  Ordonio,  too  proud  to  look  steadily  into 
himself,  catches  a  false  scent,  plans  the  murder  of  Isidore 

1794,  under  the  heading,  "  Address  etical  Works,  pp.  35, 36,  Appendix  C, 
to  a  Young  Jack  Ass,  and  its  tethered  p.  477.  See,  too,  Biographia  Litera,- 
Mother.     In  Familiar  Veise."     J'o-     ria,  Coleridge's  TrorArs,  1853,  iii.  161. 


608         JOURNALIST,  LECTURER,  PLAYWRIGHT       [Feb. 

aiul  the  poisoning  of  the  Sorcerer,  perpetrates  the  one, 
and,  attempting  the  other,  is  driven  by  liemorse  and  the 
discovery  of  Alvar  to  a  temporary  distraction  ;  and,  finally, 
falling  a  victim  to  the  only  crime  that  had  been  realized, 
by  the  hand  of  Alhadra,  breathes  his  last  in  a  pang  of 
pride  :  "  O  couldst  thou  forget  me  !  "  As  from  a  circum- 
ference to  a  centre,  every  ray  in  the  tragedy  converges  to 
Ordonio.  Spite  of  wretched  acting,  the  passage  told 
wonderfully  in  which,  as  in  a  struggle  between  two  un- 
equal Panatldists  or  wrestlers,  the  weaker  had  for  a  mo- 
ment got  uppermost,  and  Ordonio,  with  unfeigned  love, 
and  genuine  repentance,  says,  "  I  will  kneel  to  thee,  my 
Brother !  Forgive  me,  Alvar !  "  till  the  Pride,  like  the 
bottom -swell  on  our  lake,  gusts  up  again  in  "  Curse 
me  with  forgiveness ! "  The  second  good  quality  is,  I 
think,  the  variety  of  metres  according  as  the  speeches  are 
merely  transitive,  or  narrative,  or  passionate,  or  (as  in  the 
Incantation)  deliberate  and  formal  poetry.  It  is  true 
they  are  all,  or  almost  all,  Iambic  blank  verse,  but  under 
that  form  there  are  five  or  six  perfectly  distinct  metres. 
As  to  the  outcry  that  the  "  Remorse "  is  not  pathetic 
(meaning  such  pathos  as  convulses  in  "  Isabella  "  or  "  The 
Gamester")  the  answer  is  easy.  True!  the  poet  never 
meant  that  it  should  be.  It  is  as  pathetic  as  the  "  Ham- 
let "  or  the  "  Julius  Ciesar."  He  woo'd  the  feelings  of 
the  audience,  as  my  wretched  epilogue  said :  — 

With  no  TOO  real  Woes  that  make  you  gi-oan 
(At  home-bred,  kindred  grief,  perhaps  your  own), 
Yet  with  no  image  compensate  tlie  mind, 
Nor  leave  one  joy  for  memory  behind. 

As  to  my  thefts  from  the  "  Wallenstein,"  they  came  on 
compulsion  from  the  necessity  of  haste,  and  do  not  lie 
on  my  conscience,  being  partly  thefts  from  myself,  and 
because  I  gave  Schiller  twenty  for  one  I  have  taken,  and 
in  the  mean  time  I  hope  they  will  lie  snug.    "  The  obscur- 


1813]  TO  THOMAS  POOLE  609 

est  Haunt  of  all  our  mountains,"  ^  I  did  not  recognize  as 
Wordsworth  till  after  the  play  was  all  printed.  I  must 
write  again  to-morrow  on  other  subjects. 

The  House  was  crowded  again  last  night,  and  the  Man- 
ager told  me  that  they  lost  X200  by  suspending  it  on 
[the]  Saturday  night  that  Jack  Bannister  came  out. 

(No  signature.) 

CXCV.    TO   THOMAS   POOLE. 

February  13,  1813. 

Dear  Poole,  —  Love  so  deep  and  so  domesticated  with 
the  whole  being,  as  mine  was  to  you,  can  never  cease  to 
he.   To  quote  the  best  and  sweetest  lines  I  ever  wrote:  ^  — 

Alas  !  they  had  been  Friends  in  Youth ! 
But  whisp'riug  Tongues  can  poison  Truth ; 
And  Constancy  lives  in  Reahns  above ; 
And  Life  is  thorny  ;  and  Youth  is  vain ; 
And  to  be  wroth  with  one  we  love 
Doth  work,  like  Madness,  in  the  Brain ! 
And  so  it  chanced  (as  I  divine) 
With  Roland  and  Sir  Leoline. 
Each  spake  words  of  high  Disdain 

^  The  -words,  "  Obscurest  Haunt  Coleridge,  if  he  had  anything  per- 

of   all   our  mountains,"    are    to   be  sonal  in  his  mind,  and  we  may  be 

found  in  the  first  act  of  "  Remorse,"  sure  that  he  had,  was  looking  back 

lines  115,  1 16.    Their  counterpart  in  on  his  early  friendship  with  Southey, 

Wordsworth's  poems  occurs  in"  The  and  the  bitter  quarrel  which  began 

Brothers,"  1.  140.    ("  It  is  the  lone-  over   the   collapse  of   pantisocracy, 

liest  place  of  all  these  hills.")     "  De  and  was  never  healed  till  the  sum- 

minimis  non  curat  lex,"  especially  mer  of  1799.    In  the  late  autumn  of 

■when  there  is  a  plea  to  be  advanced,  1800,  when  the  second  part  of  "  Chris- 

or  a  charge  to  be  defended.     Poeii-  tabel  "  was  written,  Southey  was  ab- 

cal  Works,  p.  362 ;  Works  of  Words-  sent  in  Portugal,  and  the  thought  of 

worth,  p.  127.  all  that  had  come  and  gone  between 

2  Many  theories   have  been   haz-  him  and  his  "  heart's  best  brother  " 

arded   with   regard   to   the   broken  inspired   this   outburst   of  affection 

friendship  commemorated   in   these  and  regret, 
lines.     My  own  impression   is   that 


610         JOURNALIST,  LECTURER,  PLAYWRIGHT       [Feb. 

And  Insult  to  his  heart's  best  Brother : 

They  parted  —  ne'er  to  meet  again  ! 

But  never  either  found  anotlier 

To  free  the  hollow  Heart  from  Paining  — 

They  stood  aloof,  the  Scars  remaining, 

Like  Cliffs,  which  had  been  rent  asunder, 

A  dreary  Sea  now  flows  between  !  — 

But  neither  Frost,  nor  Heat,  nor  Thunder, 

Shall  wholly  do  away,  I  ween, 

The  marks  of  that  which  once  hath  been ! 

Stung  as  I  have  been  with  your  unkindness  to  me,  in 
my  sore  aclversitj^  yet  the  receipt  of  your  two  heart-engen- 
dered lines  was  sweeter  than  an  unexpected  strain  of 
sweetest  music,  or,  in  humbler  phrase,  it  was  the  only 
pleasurable  sensation  which  the  success  of  the  "  Kemorse  " 
has  given  me.  I  have  read  of,  or  perhaps  only  imagined, 
a  punishment  in  Arabia,  in  which  the  culprit  was  so 
bricked  up  as  to  be  unable  to  turn  his  eyes  to  the  right 
or  the  left,  while  in  front  was  placed  a  high  heap  of  bar- 
ren sand  glittering  under  the  vertical  sun.  Some  slight 
analogue  of  this,  I  have  myself  suffered  from  the  mere 
unusualness  of  having  my  attention  forcibly  directed  to  a 
subject  which  permitted  neither  sequence  of  imagery,  or 
series  of  reasoning.  No  grocer's  apprentice,  after  his 
first  month's  permitted  riot,  was  ever  sicker  of  figs  and 
raisins  than  I  of  hearing  about  the  "  Remorse."  The 
endless  rat-a-tat-tat  at  our  black-and-blue-bruised  door, 
and  my  three  master-fiends,  proof  sheets,  letters  (for  I 
have  a  raging  epistolophobia),  and  worse  than  these — • 
invitations  to  large  dinners,  which  I  cannot  refuse  with- 
out offence  and  imputation  of  pride,  or  accept  without 
disturbance  of  temper  the  day  before,  and  a  sick,  aching 
stomach  for  two  days  after,  so  that  my  sjjirits  quite  sink 
under  it. 

From  what  I  myself  saw,  and  from  what  an  intelligent 
friend,  more  solicitous  about  it  than  myself,  has  told  me, 


1813]  TO  THOMAS  POOLE  611 

the  "  Remorse "  has  succeeded  in  spite  of  bad  scenes, 
execrable  acting,  and  newspaper  calumny.  In  my  com- 
pliments to  the  actors,  I  endeavoured  (such  is  the  lot  of 
this  world,  in  which  our  best  qualities  tilt  against  each 
other,  ex.  gr.,  our  good  nature  against  our  veracity)  to 
make  a  lie  edge  round  the  tru^h  as  nearly  as  possible. 
Poor  Rae  (why  poor?  for  Ordonio  has  almost  made  his 
fortune)  did  the  best  in  his  power,  and  is  a  good  man  .  .  . 
a  moral  and  affectionate  husband  and  father.  But  nature 
has  denied  him  person  and  all  volume  and  depth  of  voice ; 
so  that  the  blundering  coxcomb  EUiston,  by  mere  dint  of 
voice  and  self-conceit,  out-dazzled  him.  It  has  been  a 
good  thing  for  the  theatre.  They  will  get  ^£8,000  or 
ilO,000,  and  I  shall  get  more  than  all  my  literary  labours 
put  together ;  nay,  thrice  as  much,  subtracting  my  heavy 
losses  in  the  "Watchman"  and  " Friend,"  —  £400  in- 
cluding the  copyright. 

You  will  have  heard  that,  previous  to  the  acceptance  of 
"  Remorse,"  Mr.  Jos.  Wedgwood  had  withdrawn  from  his 
share  of  the  annuity  !  ^  Well,  yes,  it  is  well !  —  for  I  can 
now  be  sure  that  I  loved  him,  revered  him,  and  was  grate- 

^  The  annuitj'  of   £150   for  life,  dren,  for  whom  the  annuity  was  re- 

which    Josiah    Wedgwood,   on    his  served.     It  is  hardly  likely  that  a 

own   and   his   brother  Thomas'  be-  man  of  business  forgot  the  terras  of 

half,  offered    to    Coleridge   in  Jan-  his    own   offer,   or    that    he    could 

nary,   1798.      The    letter   expressly  have  imagined  that  Coleridge  was  no 

states  that  it  is  "  an  amiuity  for  life  longer  in  need  of   support.     Either 

of  £  loO  to  be  regularly  paid  by  us,  no  in  some  fit  of  penitence  or  of  passion 

condition  whatsoever  being  annexed  Coleridge  offered  to  release  him,  or 

to  it."     "  We  mean,"  he  adds,  '"  the  once  again  "  whispering  tongues  had 

annuity  to  be  independent  of  every-  poisoned  truth,"  and  some  one  had 

thing   but   the    wreck    of    our   for-  represented  to  Wedgwood  that  the 

tune."      It  is    extraordinary  that  a  money  was  doing  more   harm  than 

man  of   probity  should  have  taken  good.     But  a  bond  is  a  bond,  and  it 

advantage  of  the  fact  that  the  an-  is  hard  to  see,   unless  the  act  and 

nuity,  as  had    been  proposed,    was  deed  were  Coleridge's,  how  Wedg- 

not  secured  by  law,  and  should  have  wood   can   escape   blame.      Thomas 

Btrnck  this  blow,  not  so  much  at  Poole  and  his  Friends,  i.  257-259. 
Coleridge,  as  at  his  wife  and  chil- 


612        JOURNALIST,  LECTURER,  PLAYWRIGHT       [Fkb. 

fill  to  liim  from  no  selfish  feeling.  For  equally  (and  may 
these  wonls  be  my  final  condeiunation  at  the  last  awful 
day,  if  I  speak  not  the  whole  truth),  equally  do  I  at  this 
moment  love  him,  and  with  the  same  reverential  grati- 
tude !  To  Mr.  Thomas  Wedgwood  I  felt,  doubtless,  love ; 
but  it  was  mingled  with  fear,  and  constant  apprehension 
of  his  too  exquisite  taste  in  morals.  But  Josiah  I  Oh,  I 
ever  did,  and  ever  shall,  love  him,  as  a  being  so  beauti- 
fully balanced  in  mind  and  heart  deserves  to  be ! 

'Tis  well,  too,  because  it  has  given  me  the  strongest 
impulse,  the  most  imperious  motive  I  have  experienced, 
to  prove  to  him  that  his  past  munifi.cence  has  not  been 
wasted  ! 

You  jierhaps  may  likewise  have  heard  (in  the  Whisper- 
ing Gallery  of  the  Woi'ld)  of  the  year-long  difference  be- 
tween me  and  Wordsworth  (compared  with  the  sufferings 
of  which  all  the  former  afflictions  of  my  life  were  less 
than  flea-bites),  occasioned  (in  great  part^  by  the  wicked 
folly  of  the  arch-fool  Montagu. 

A  reconciliation  has  taken  place,  but  the  feeling,  which 
I  had  previous  to  that  moment,  when  the  (three-fourth) 
calumny  burst,  like  a  thunderstorm  from  a  blue  sky,  on 
my  soul,  after  fifteen  years  of  such  religious,  almost  su- 
perstitious idolatry  and  self-sacrifice.  Oh,  no  I  no  !  that,  I 
fear,  never  can  return.  All  outward  actions,  all  inward 
wishes,  all  thoughts  and  admirations  will  be  the  same  — 
are  the  same,  but  —  aye,  there  remains  an  immedicable 
But.  Had  W.  said  (what  he  acknowledges  to  have  said) 
to  you,  I  should  have  thought  it  unkind,  and  have  had  a 
right  to  say,  "  Why,  why  am  I,  whose  whole  being  has 
been  like  a  glass  beehive  before  you  for  five  years,  why  do 
I  hear  this  from  a  third  person  for  the  first  time  ?  "  But 
to  such  ...  as  Montagu  !  just  when  W.  himself  had 
forewarned  me !     Oh !  it  cut  me  to  the  heart's  core. 

S.  T,  Coleridge, 


CHAPTER   XII 

A  MELANCHOLY  EXILE 

1813-1815 


i 


I 


CHAPTER  XII 

A  MELANCHOLY   EXILE 
1813-1815 

CXCVI.    TO   DANIEL   STUART. 

September  25,  1813. 

Dear  Stuart,  —  I  forgot  to  ask  you  by  what  address 
a  letter  would  best  reach  you  !  Whether  Kilburn  House, 
Kilburn?  I  shall  therefore  send  it,  or  leave  it  at  the 
"  Courier  "  office.  I  found  Southey  so  chevaux-de-frized 
and  pallisadoed  by  preengagements  that  I  coidd  not  reach 
at  him  till  Sunday  sennight,  that  is,  Sunday,  October  3, 
when,  if  convenient,  we  should  be  happy  to  wait  on  you. 
Southey  will  be  in  town  till  Monday  evening,  and  you 
have  his  brother's  address,  should  you  wish  to  write  to 
him  (Dr.  Southey ,i  28,  Little  Queen  Anne  Street,  Caven- 
dish Square). 

A  curious  paragraph  in  the  "  Morning  Chronicle  "  of 
this  morning,  asserting  with  its  usual  comfortahle  anti- 
patriotism  the  determination  of  the  Emperor  of  Austria 
to  persevere  in  the  terms  ^  offered  to  his  son-in-law,  in  his 
frenzy  of  power,  even  though  he  should  be  beaten  to  the 
dust.  ISIethinks  there  ought  to  be  good  authority  before 
a  journalist  dares  prophesy  folly  and  knavery  in  union  of 
our  Imperial  Ally.  An  excellent  article  ought  to  be 
written  on  this  subject.  In  the  same  paper  there  is  what 
I  should  have  called  a  masterly  essay  on  the  causes  of  the 

'  Dr.  Southey,  the  poet's  young-er  lifelong  friendship  arose  between  the 

brother   Henry,    and   Daniel  IStiiart  two  families. 

were  afterwards  neighbours  in  Har-  2  Treaty  of   Vienna,   October   9, 

ley  Street.      A  close   intimacy   and  1809. 


616  A  MELANCHOLY  EXILE  [April 

downfall  of  the  Coiuie  Drama,  if  I  was  not  perplexed  by 
the  distinct  recollection  of  having  conversed  the  greater 
part  of  it  at  Lamb's.  I  wish  you  would  read  it,  and  tell 
me  what  you  think ;  for  I  seem  to  remember  a  conversa- 
tion with  you  in  which  you  asserted  the  very  contrary ; 
that  comic  genius  was  the  thing  wanting,  and  not  comic 
subjects  —  that  the  watering  places,  or  rather  the  char- 
acters presented  at  them,  had  never  been  adequately  man- 
aged, etc. 

Might  I  request  you  to  present  my  best  respects  to 
Mrs.  Stuart  as  those  of  an  old  acquaintance  of  yours,  and, 
as  far  as  I  am  myself  conscious  of,  at  all  times  with  hearty 
affection,  your  sincere  friend, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

P.  S.  There  are  some  half  dozen  more  books  of  mine 
left  at  the  "Courier"  office,  Ben  Jonson  and  sundry 
German  volumes.  As  I  am  compelled  to  sell  my  library,^ 
you  would  oblige  me  by  ordering  the  porter  to  take  them 
to  19,  London  Street,  Fitzroy  Square ;  whom  I  will  re- 
munerate for  his  trouble.  I  should  not  take  this  liberty, 
but  that  I  had  in  vain  ^vi-itten  to  Mr.  Street,  requesting 
the  same  favour,  which  in  his  hurry  of  business  I  do  not 
wonder  that  he  forgot. 

CXCVII.    TO   JOSEPH   C0TTLE.2 

sY'^^pril  26,  1814. 
You  have  poured  oil  in  the  raw  and  festering  wound 
of  an  old  friend's  conscience,  Cottle !    but  it   is  oil  of 

^  This  could  only  have  been  car-  ter,  and  still  more  of  that  to  Josiah 

ried  out  in  part.     A  large   portion  Wade   of    June    26,    1814   (Letter 

of  the  books   which  Coleridge  pos-  CC),  was  deeply  resented  by  Cole- 

sessed  at  his  death  consisted  of  those  ridge's   three    children   and   by   all 

which  he  had  purchased  during  his  his  friends.      In  the  preface  to  hia 

travels  in  Germany  in  1799,  and  in  Early   Becollectiom    Cottle    defends 

Italy  in  180r)-1806.  himself  on  the  plea  that  in  the  in- 

^  The   publication  by   Cottle,   in  terests    of    truth   these   confessions 

1837,  of  this  and  the  following  let-  should  be  revealed,  and  urges  that 


The  room  at  Highgate,  where  he  died 


r^- 


\^m> 


-f  -~  / 


y.ii&,Mn^^ 


%^ 


Wmm^ 


->ai 


^^■;::  .    iii^ 


1814]  /  TO  JOSEPH  COTTLE  617 

vitriol !  I  but  barely  glanced  at  the  middle  of  the  first 
page  of  your  letter,  and  have  seen  no  more  of  it  —  not 
from  resentment  (God  forbid !),  but  from  the  state  of  my 
bodily  and  mental  sufferings,  that  scarcely  permitted 
himian  fortitude  to  let  in  a  new  visitor  of  affliction. 

The  object  of  my  present  reply  is  to  state  the  case  just 
as  it  is.  First,  that  for  ten  years  the  anguish  of  my 
spirit  has  been  indescribable,  the  sense  of  my  danger 
staring,  but  the  consciousness  of  my  guilt  worse,  far 
worse  than  all.  I  have  prayed,  with  drops  of  agony  on 
my  brow,  trembling  not  only  before  the  justice  of  my 
Maker,  but  even  before  the  mercy  of  my  Redeemer.  "  I 
gave  thee  so  many  talents,  what  hast  thou  done  with 
them?"  Secondly,  overwhelmed  as  I  am  with  a  sense 
of  my  direful  infirmity,  I  have  never  attempted  to  dis- 
guise or  conceal  the  cause.  On  the  contrary,  not  only  to 
friends  have  I  stated  the  whole  case  with  tears  and  the 
very  bitterness  of  shame,  but  in  two  instances  I  have 
warned  young  men,  mere  acquaintances,  who  had  spoken 
of  having  taken  laudanum,  of  the  direful  consequences, 
by  an  awful  exjDosition  of  the  tremendous  effects  on 
myself. 

Coleridge's  own  demand  that  after  etc.,  he  was  able  to  quote  Southey 

his  death  "  a  full    and    unqualified  as  an  advocate,  though,  possibly,  a 

narrative   of   my  wretchedness  and  reluctant  advocate,  for  publication, 

its  guilty  cause  may  be  made  pub-  There  can  be  no  question  that  nei- 

lic,"  not   only    justified    but   called  ther  Coleridge's  request  nor  South- 

for  his  action  in  the  matter.     The  ey's  sanction  gave  Cottle  any  right 

law  of   copyiight   in  the  letters  of  to  wound  the  feelings  of  the  living 

parents  and  remoter  ancestors  was  or  to  expose  the  frailties  and  remorse 

less  cleariy  defined  at  that  time  than  of  the  dead.    The  letters,  which  have 

it  is  at  present,  and  Coleridge's  liter-  been     public    property    for    nearly 

ary  executors  contented  themselves  sixty   years,  are  included   in   these 

with  recording  their  protest  in  the  volumes  because  they  have  a  nat- 

strongest  possible  terms.     In  1848,  ural  and  proper  place  in  any  coUec- 

when    Cottle    reprinted    his    Earlif  tion   of    Coleridge's   Letters   which 

Recollections,    together    with    some  claims  to   be,  in  any  sense,  repre- 

additional  matter,  under  the  title  of  sentative  of   his   correspondence  at 

Reminiscences    of   S.    T.    Coleridge,  large. 


G18  A  MELANCHOLY  EXILE  [May 

Thirdly,  though  before  God  I  cannot  lift  up  my  eye- 
lids, :iud  only  do  not  despair  of  His  mercy,  because  to 
despair  would  be  adding  crime  to  crime,  yet  to  my  fellow- 
men  I  may  say  that  I  was  seduced  into  the  accursed 
habit  ignorantly.  I  had  been  almost  bed-ridden  for  many 
months  with  swellings  in  my  knees.  In  a  medical  jour- 
nal, I  unhappily  met  with  an  account  of  a  cure  performed 
in  a  similar  case  (or  what  appeared  to  me  so),  by  rub- 
bing in  of  laudanum,  at  the  same  time  taking  a  given 
dose  internally.  It  acted  like  a  charm,  like  a  miracle  ! 
I  recovered  the  use  of  my  limbs,  of  my  appetite,  of  my 
spirits,  and  this  continued  for  near  a  fortnight.  At  length 
the  unusual  stimulus  subsided,  the  complaint  returned, 
the  supposed  remedy  was  recurred  to  —  but  I  cannot  go 
through  the  dreary  history. 

Suffice  it  to  say,  that  effects  were  produced  which  acted 
on  me  by  terror  and  cowardice,  of  pain  and  sudden 
death,  not  (so  help  me  God !)  by  any  temptation  of 
pleasure,  or  expectation,  or  desire  of  exciting  pleasurable 
sensations.  On  the  very  contrary,  Mrs.  Morgan  and  her 
sister  will  bear  witness,  so  far  as  to  say,  that  the  longer 
I  abstained  the  higher  my  spirits  were,  the  keener  my 
enjoyment  —  till  the  moment,  the  direful  moment,  arrived 
when  my  piilse  began  to  fluctuate,  my  heart  to  paljiitate, 
and  such  a  dreadful  falling  abroad,  as  it  were,  of  my  whole 
frame,  such  intolerable  restlessness,  and  incipient  bewil- 
derment, that  in  the  last  of  my  several  attempts  to  aban- 
don the  dire  poison,  I  exclaimed  in  agony,  which  I  now 
repeat  in  seriousness  and  solemnity,  "  I  am  too  poor  to 
hazard  this."  Had  I  but  a  few  hundred  jiounds,  but 
£200  —  half  to  send  to  Mrs.  Coleridge,  and  half  to  place 
myself  in  a  private  madhouse,  where  I  could  procure 
nothing  but  what  a  physician  thought  proper,  and  where 
a  medical  attendant  could  be  constantly  with  me  for  two 
or  three  months  (in  less  than  that  time  life  or  death 
would  be  determined),  then  there  might  be  hope.     Now 


1814]  TO  JOSEPH  COTTLE  619 

there  is  none ! !  O  God !  how  willingly  would  I  place 
myself  under  Dr.  Fox,  in  his  establishment ;  for  my  ease 
is  a  species  of  madness,  only  that  it  is  a  derangement,  an 
utter  impotence  of  the  volition,  and  not  of  the  intellectual 
faculties.  You  bid  me  rouse  myself :  go  bid  a  man 
paralytic  in  both  arms,  to  rub  them  briskly  together,  and 
that  will  cure  him.  "  Alas !  "  he  would  reply,  "  that  I 
cannot  move  my  arms  is  my  complaint  and  my  misery." 

May  God  bless  you,  and  your  affectionate,  but  most 
afflicted, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CXCVIII.    TO   THE   SAME. 

Friday,  May  21,  1814. 

My  dear  Cottle,  —  Gladness  be  with  you,  for  your 
convalescence,  and  equally  so,  at  the  hope  which  has  sus- 
tained and  fcranquillised  you  through  your  imminent  peril. 
Far  otherwise  is,  and  hath  been,  my  state ;  yet  I  too  am 
grateful ;  yet  I  cannot  rejoice.  I  feel,  with  an  intensity 
unfathomable  by  words,  my  utter  nothingness,  impotence, 
and  worthlessness,  in  and  for  myself.  I  have  learned 
what  a  sin  is,  against  an  infinite  imperishable  being,  such 
as  is  the  soul  of  man ! 

I  have  had  more  than  a  glimpse  of  what  is  meant  by 
death  and  outer  darkness,  and  the  worm  that  dieth  not  — 
and  that  all  the  hell  of  the  reprobate  is  no  more  incon- 
sistent with  the  love  of  God,  than  the  blindness  of  one 
who  has  occasioned  loathsome  and  guilty  diseases,  to  eat 
out  his  eyes,  is  inconsistent  with  the  light  of  the  sun.  But 
the  consolations,  at  least,  the  sensible  sweetness  of  hope,  I 
do  not  possess.  On  the  contrary,  the  temptation  which  I 
have  constantly  to  fight  up  against  is  a  fear,  that  if  anni- 
hilation and  the  jwsslbility  of  heaven  were  offered  to  my 
choice,  I  should  choose  the  former. 

This  is,  perhaps,  in  part,  a  constitutional  idiosyncrasy, 
for  when  a  mere  boy  I  wrote  these  lines  :  — 


620  A  MELANCHOLY  EXILE  [May 

O,  what  a  wonder  seems  the  fear  of  death, 

Seeing  how  gladly  we  all  sink  to  sleep, 

Bahes,  children,  youths,  and  men. 

Night  following  night,  for  three-score  years  and  ten  I  * 

And  in  my  early  manhood,  in  lines  descriptive  of  a  gloomy 
solitude,  I  disguised  my  own  sensations  in  the  following 
words :  — 

Here  wisdom  might  abide,  and  here  remorse  ! 

Here,  too,  the  woe-worn  man,  who,  weak  in  soul, 

And  of  this  busy  human  heart  aweary. 

Worships  the  spirit  of  unconscious  life 

In  tree  or  wild-flower.     Gentle  lunatic  ! 

If  so  he  might  not  wholly  cease  to  be, 

He  would  far  rather  not  be  what  he  is  ; 

But  would  be  something  that  he  knows  not  of, 

In  woods  or  waters,  or  among  the  rocks.  ^ 

My  main  comfort,  therefore,  consists  in  what  the  divines 
call  the  faith  of  adherence,  and  no  spiritual  effort  aj^pears 
to  benefit  me  so  much  as  the  one  earnest,  importunate, 
and  often  for  hours,  momently  repeated  prayers :  "I  be- 
lieve !  Lord,  help  my  imbelief !  Give  me  faith,  but  as  a 
mustard  seed,  and  I  shall  remove  this  mountain  !  Faith ! 
faith !  faith !  I  believe.  Oh,  give  me  faith !  Oh,  for  my 
Redeemer's  sake,  give  me  faith  in  my  Redeemer." 

In  all  this  I  justify  God,  for  I  was  accustomed  to  op- 
pose the  preaching  of  the  terrors  of  the  gospel,  and  to 
represent  it  as  debasing  virtue  by  the  admixture  of  slav- 
ish selfishness. 

I  now  see  that  what  is  spiritual  can  only  be  spiritually 
apprehended.     Comprehended  it  cannot. 

Mr.  Eden  gave  you  a  too  flattering  account  of  me.     It 

^  At    whatever   time    these  lines  Works,  p.   61  ;    Editor's  Note,  pp. 

may  have  been  written,  they  were  562,  563. 

not  printed    till    1829,  when    they  ^  "  The   Picture ;  or  The  Lover's 

were  prefixed  to  the  "  Monody  on  the  Resolution,"  lines  17-25.     Poetical 

Death    of     Chatterton."      Foeticcd  Works,  p.  162. 


1814]  TO  CHARLES  MATHEWS  621 

is  true,  I  am  restored  as  much  beyond  my  expectations 
almost  as  my  deserts ;  but  I  am  exceedingly  weak.  I 
need  for  myself  solace  and  refocillation  of  animal  spirits, 
instead  of  being  in  a  condition  of  offering  it  to  otliers. 
Yet  as  soon  as  I  may  see  you,  I  will  call  upon  you. 

S.    T.    COLEKIDGE. 

CXCIX.    TO   CHARLES   MATHEWS. 

2,  Queen's  Square,  Bristol,  May  30,  1814. 

Dear  Sir,  —  Unusual  as  this  liberty  may  be,  yet  as  it 
is  a  friendly  one,  you  will  pardon  it,  especially  from  one 
who  has  had  already  some  connection  with  the  stage,  and 
may  have  more.  But  I  was  so  higlily  gratified  with  my 
feast  of  this  night,  that  I  feel  a  sort  of  restless  imj)idse 
to  tell  you  what  I  felt  and  thought. 

Imprimis,  I  grieved  that  you  had  such  miserable  mate- 
rials to  deal  with  as  Colman's  Solomon  Grundy,^  a  char- 
acter which  in  and  of  itself  (Mathews  and  his  Variations 
ad  lihitum  put  out  of  the  question)  contains  no  one  ele- 
ment of  genuine  comedy,  no,  nor  even  of  fun  or  drollery. 
The  play  is  assuredly  the  very  sediment,  the  dregs  of  a 
noble  cask  of  wine  ;  for  such  was,  yes,  in  many  instances 
was  and  has  been,  and  in  many  more  might  have  been, 
Colman^s  dramatic  genius. 

A  genius  Colman  is  by  nature.  What  he  is  not,  or 
has  not  been,  is  all  of  his  own  making.  In  my  humble 
opinion,  he  possessed  the  elements  of  dramatic  power  in 
a  far  higher  degree  than  Sheridan  :  or  which  of  the  two, 
think  you,  should  pronounce  with  the  deeper  sigh  of  self- 
reproach,  "  Fuimus  Troes !  and  what  might  we  not  have 
been?" 

But  I  leave  this  to  proceed  to  the  really  astonishing 
effect  of  your  duplicate  of  Cook  in    Sir  Archy  McSar- 

^  Solomon  Grundy  is  a  character,     a  Guinea  ?  produced  at  Covent  Gar- 
played  by  Fawcett,  in  George  Col-     den,  1804-1805. 
man  the  younger's  piece,  Who  wants 


622  A  MELANCHOLY  EXILE  [June 

casui.^  To  say  that  iu  some  of  your  higher  notes  your 
voice  was  rather  tJiinner,  rather  less  substance  and  thick 
body  than  poor  Cook's,  would  be  merely  to  say  that  A.  B. 
is  not  exactly  A.  A.  But,  on  the  whole,  it  was  almost 
illusion,  and  so  very  excellent,  that  if  I  were  intimate 
with  you,  I  should  get  angry  and  abuse  you  for  not  form- 
ing for  yourself  some  original  and  important  character. 
The  man  who  could  so  impersonate  Sir  Archy  McSar- 
casm  might  do  anything  in  profound  Comedy  (that  is, 
that  which  gives  us  the  jjassions  of  men  and  their  endless 
modifications  and  influences  on  thought,  gestures,  etc., 
modified  in  their  turn  by  circumstances  of  rank,  relations, 
nationality,  etc.,  instead  of  mere  transitory  manners ;  in 
short,  the  inmost  man  rej^resented  on  the  sui^erficies,  in- 
stead of  the  sui^erficies  merely  representing  itself).  But 
you  will  forgive  a  stranger  for  a  suggestion  ?  I  cannot 
but  think  that  it  would  anstver  for  your  still  increasing 
fame  if  you  were  either  previously  to,  or  as  an  occasional 
diversification  of  Sir  Archy,  to  study  and  give  that  one 
most  incomparable  monologue  of  Sir  Pertinax  McSyco- 
phant,^  where  he  gives  his  son  the  history  of  his  rise  and 
progress  in  the  world.  Being  in  its  essence  a  soliloquy 
with  all  the  advantages  of  a  dialogue,  it  would  be  a  most 
happy  introduction  to  Sir  Archy  McSarcasm,  which,  I 
doubt  not,  will  call  forth  with  good  reason  the  Covent 
Garden  Manager's  thanks  to  you  next  season. 

I  once  had  the  presumption  to  address  this  advice  to 
an  actor  on  the  London  stage :  "TVif/i/i,  in  order  that  you 
may  be  able  to  ohserve  I  ■  Observe,  in  order  that  you  may 
have  materials  to  think  upon  !  And  thirdly,  keej)  awake 
ever  the  habit  of  instantly  embodying  and  realising  the 
results  of  the  two ;  but  always  thinh  !  " 

A  great  actor,  comic  or  tragic,  is  not  to  be  a  mere  copy, 
a  fac  simile,  or  but  an  imitation,  of  Nature.     Now  an 

^  A  character  in  Macklin's  play,        ^  A  character  in  Mackliu's  play, 
Love  d.  la  Mode,  A  Man  of  (he  World, 


1814]  TO  JOSIAH  WADE  623 

imitation  differs  from  a  copy  in  this,  that  it  of  necessity 
implies  and  demands  difference,  whereas  a  copy  aims  at 
identity.  What  a  marble  peach  on  a  mantelpiece,  that 
you  take  uj)  deluded  and  put  down  with  pettish  disgust,  is, 
compared  with  a  fruit-piece  of  Vauhuyser's,  even  such  is 
a  mere  C02:>y  of  nature  compared  with  a  true  histrionic  iini- 
tation.  A  good  actor  is  Pygmalion's  Statue,  a  work  of 
exquisite  art,  animated  and  gifted  with  motion  ;  but  still 
art,  still  a  species  of  -poetry. 

Not  the  least  advantage  which  an  actor  gains  by  having 
secured  a  high  rejiutation  is  this,  that  those  who  sincerely 
admire  him  may  dare  tell  him  the  truth  at  times,  and 
thus,  if  he  have  sensible  friends,  secure  his  progressive  im- 
provement ;  in  other  words,  keep  liim  thinking.  For 
without  thinking,  nothing  consummate  can  be  effected. 

Accept  this,  dear  sir,  as  it  is  meant,  a  small  testimony 
of  the  high  gratification  I  have  received  from  you  and  of 
the  respectful  and  sincere  kind  wishes  with  which  I  am 
Your  obedient  S.  T.  Coleridge. 

Mathews,  Esq.,  to  be  left  at  the  Bristol  Theatre. 

CC.    TO   JOSIAH   WADE. 

Bristol,  June  26,  1814. 

Dear  Sir,  —  For  I  am  unworthy  to  call  any  good  man 
friend  —  much  less  you,  whose  hospitality  and  love  I  have 
abused ;  accept,  however,  my  intreaties  for  your  forgive- 
ness, and  for  your  prayers. 

Conceive  a  poor  miserable  wretch,  who  for  many  years 
has  been  attempting  to  beat  off  pain,  by  a  constant  recur- 
rence to  the  vice  that  reproduces  it.  Conceive  a  spirit  in 
hell,  employed  in  tracing  out  for  others  the  road  to  that 
heaven,  from  which  his  crimes  exclude  him !  In  short, 
conceive  whatever  is  most  wretched,  helpless,  and  hope- 
less, and  you  will  form  as  tolerable  a  notion  of  my  state, 
as  it  is  possible  for  a  good  man  to  have. 


624 


A  MELANCHOLY   EXILE 


[Aug, 


I  used  to  think  the  text  in  St.  James  that  "  he  who  of- 
fended in  one  point,  offends  in  all,"  very  harsh ;  bnt  I 
now  feel  the  awful,  the  tremendous  truth  of  it.  In  the 
one  crime  of  opium,  what  crime  have  1  not  made  myself 
guilty  of !  —  Ingratitude  to  my  Maker  !  and  to  my  bene- 
factors —  injustice !  and  iinnatural  cruelty  to  my  jioor 
childven  !  —  self -contempt  for  my  repeated  promise  — 
breach,  nay,  too  often,  actual  falsehood ! 

After  my  death,  I  earnestly  entreat,  that  a  full  and  un- 
qualified narration  of  my  wretchedness,  and  of  its  guilty 
cause,  may  be  made  public,  that  at  least  some  little  good 
nx^j  be  effected  by  the  direful  example. 

May  God  Ahnighty  bless  you,  and  have  mercy  on  your 
still  affectionate,  and  in  his  heart,  grateful 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CCI.    TO   JOHN   MURRAY. 

Josiah  Wade's,  Esq.,  2,  Queen's  Square,  Bristol, 

August  2i,  1814. 

Dear  Sir,  —  I  have  heard,  from  my  friend  Mr.  Charles 
Lamb,  writing  by  desire  of  Mr.  Robinson,  that  you  wish 
to  have  the  justly-celebrated  "  Faust "  ^  of  Goethe  trans- 
lated, and  that  some  one  or  other  of  my  partial  friends 
have  induced  you  to  consider  me  as  the  man  most  likely 


1  It  is  needless  to  say  that  Cole- 
ridge never  even  attempted  a  trans- 
lation of  Faust.  Whether  there 
were  initial  dif3Bculties  with  regard 
to  procuring  the  "  whole  of  Goethe's 
works,"  and  other  books  of  refer- 
ence, or  whether  his  heart  failed  him 
when  he  began  to  study  the  work 
with  a  view  to  translation,  the  ar- 
rangement with  Murray  fell  through. 
A  statement  in  the  Table  Talk  for 
February  16, 183.3,  that  the  task  was 
abandoned  on  moral  grounds,  that 
he  could  not  bring  himself  to  famil- 
iarise the  English  public  with  "  lan- 


guage, mucli  of  which  was,"  he 
thought,  "  vulgar,  licentious,  and 
blasphemous,"  is  not  borne  out  by 
the  tone  of  his  letters  to  Murray,  of 
July  29,  August  31,  1814.  No  doubt 
the  spirit  of  Faust,  alike  with  re- 
gard to  tlieology  and  morality,  would 
at  all  times  have  been  distasteful  to 
him,  but  with  regard  to  what  actu- 
ally took  place,  he  deceived  himself 
in  supposing  that  the  feelings  and 
scruples  of  old  age  would  have  pre- 
vailed in  middle  life.  Memoirs  of 
John  Murray,  i.  297  et  seq. 


1814]  TO  JOHN  MURRAY  625 

to  execute  the  work  adequately,  those  excepted,  of  course, 
whose  higher  power  (established  by  the  solid  and  satisfac- 
tory ordeal  of  the  wide  and  rapid  sale  of  their  works)  it 
might  seem  profanation  to  employ  in  any  other  manner 
than  in  the  develojiment  of  their  own  intellectual  organi- 
sation. I  return  my  thanks  to  the  recommender,  whoever 
he  be,  and  no  less  to  you  for  your  flattering  faith  in  the 
recommendation ;  and  thinking,  as  I  do,  that  among  many 
volumes  of  praiseworthy  German  poems,  the  "Louisa"  of 
Voss,  and  the  "Faust"  of  Goethe,  are  the  two,  if  not  the 
only  ones,  that  are  emphatically  original  in  their  concep- 
tion, and  characteristic  of  a  new  and  peculiar  sort  of 
thinking  and  imagining,  I  should  not  be  averse  from 
exerting  my  best  efforts  in  an  attempt  to  import  what- 
ever is  importable  of  either  or  of  both  into  our  own 
language. 

But  let  me  not  be  suspected  of  a  presumption  of  which 
I  am  not  consciously  guilty,  if  I  say  that  I  feel  two  diffi- 
culties :  one  arising  from  long  disuse  of  versification, 
added  to  what  /  know,  better  than  the  most  hostile  critic 
could  inform  me,  of  my  comparative  weakness ;  and  the 
other,  that  any  work  in  Poetry  strikes  me  with  more  than 
common  awe,  as  proposed  for  realization  by  myself,  be- 
cause from  long  habits  of  meditation  on  language,  as  the 
symbolical  medium  of  the  connection  of  Thought  with 
Thought,  and  of  Thought  as  affected  and  modified  by 
Passion  and  Emotion,  I  should  spend  days  in  avoiding 
what  I  deemed  faults,  though  with  the  full  fore-knowledge 
that  their  admission  would  not  have  offended  perhaps 
three  of  all  my  readers,  and  might  be  deemed  Beauties  by 
300  —  if  so  many  there  were  ;  and  this  not  out  of  any  re- 
spect for  the  Public  (i.  e.  the  persons  who  might  happen 
to  purchase  and  look  over  the  Book),  but  from  a  hobby- 
horsical,  superstitious  regard  to  my  own  feelings  and  sense 
of  duty.  Language  is  the  Sacred  Fire  in  this  Temple  of 
Humanity,  and   the  Muses   are  its  especial   and  vestal 


626  A  MELANCHOLY  EXILE  [Sept. 

Priestesses.  Though  I  cannot  prevent  the  vile  drugs  and 
counterfeit  Frankincense,  which  render  its  flame  at  once 
pitchy,  glowing,  and  imsteady,  I  would  yet  be  no  volun- 
tary accomplice  in  the  Sacrilege.  AVith  the  commence- 
ment of  a  Public,  commences  the  degradation  of  the 
Good  and  the  Beautiful  —  both  fade  and  retire  before 
the  accidentally  Agreeable.  "  Othello  "  becomes  a  hol- 
low lip-worship ;  and  the  "  Castle  Spectre  "  or  any 
more  peccant  thing  of  Froth,  Noise,  and  Impermanence, 
that  may  have  overbillowed  it  on  the  restless  sea  of  curi- 
osity, is  the  time  Prayer  of  the  Praise  and  Admiration. 

I  thought  it  right  to  state  to  you  these  opinions  of  mine, 
that  you  might  know  that  I  think  the  Translation  of  the 
"  Faust "  a  task  demanding  (from  me,  I  mean)  no  ordi- 
nary efforts  —  and  why  ?  This  —  that  it  is  painful,  very 
painful,  and  even  odious  to  me,  to  attempt  anything  of  a 
literary  nature,  with  any  motive  oi pecuniary  advantage; 
but  that  I  bow  to  the  all-wise  Providence,  which  has  made 
me  a  2)00)'  man,  and  therefore  compelled  me  by  other  du- 
ties inspiring  feelings,  to  bring  eve7i  my  Intellect  to  the 
Market.  And  the  finale  is  this.  I  should  like  to  attempt 
the  Translation.  If  you  will  mention  your  terms,  at  once 
and  irrevocably  (for  I  am  an  idiot  at  bargaining,  and 
shrink  from  the  very  thought),  I  will  return  an  answer 
by  the  next  Post,  whether  in  my  present  circumstances,  I 
can  or  cannot  undertake  it.  If  I  do,  I  will  do  it  inunedi- 
ately ;  but  I  must  have  all  Goethe's  works,  which  I  can- 
not procure  in  Bristol ;  for  to  give  the  "  Faust "  without 
a  preliminary  critical  Essay  would  be  worse  than  nothing, 
as  far  as  regards  the  Public.  If  you  were  to  ask  me  as 
a  friend  whether  I  think  it  would  suit  the  General  Taste, 
I  should  reply  that  I  cannot  calculate  on  caprice  and  acci- 
dent (for  instance,  some  fashionable  man  or  review  ha}> 
pening  to  take  it  up  favourably),  but  that  otherwise  my 
fears  would  be  stronger  than  my  hopes.  Men  of  genius 
will  admire  it,  of  necessity.    Those  must,  who  think  deep- 


1814]  TO  DANIEL  STUART  627 

est  and  most  imaginatively.     Then  "  Louisa  "  would  de- 
light all  of  good  hearts. 

I  remain,  dear  sir,  with  every  respect, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

ecu.    TO    DANIEL   STUART. 

Mr.  Smith's,  Ashley,  Box,  near  Bath, 
September  12,  1814, 

My  dear  Sir,  —  I  wrote  some  time  ago  to  Mr.  Smith, 
earnestly  requesting  your  address,  and  entreating  him  to 
inform  you  of  the  dreadful  state  in  which  I  was,  when 
your  kind  letter  must  have  arrived,  during  your  stay  at 
Bath.  .  .  .  But  let  me  not  complain.  I  ought  to  be  and 
I  trust  I  am,  grateful  for  what  I  am,  having  escaped  with 
my  intellectual  powers,  if  less  elastic,  yet  not  less  vigor- 
ous, and  with  ampler  and  far  more  solid  materials  to  ex- 
ert them  on.  We  know  nothing  even  of  ourselves,  till  we 
know  ourselves  to  be  as  nothing  (a  solemn  truth,  spite 
of  point  and  antithesis,  in  which  the  thought  has  chanced 
to  word  itself) !  From  this  ivord  of  truth  which  the  sore 
discipline  of  a  sick  bed  has  compacted  into  an  indwelling 
reality,  from  this  article,  formerly,  of  speculative  helief, 
but  which  [circumstances]  have  actualised  into  practical 
faith ^  I  have  learned  to  counteract  calumny  by  self-re- 
proach, and  not  only  to  rejoice  (as  indeed  from  natural 
disposition,  from  the  very  constitution  of  my  heart,  I 
should  have  done  at  all  periods  of  my  life)  at  the  tempo- 
ral prosperity,  and  increased  and  increasing  reputation  of 
my  old  fellow-labourers  in  philosophical,  political,  and  po- 
etical literature,  but  to  bear  their  neglect,  and  even  their 
detraction,  as  if  I  had  done  nothing  at  all,  when  it  would 
have  asked  no  very  violent  strain  of  recollection  for  one 
or  two  of  them  to  have  considered,  whether  some  part 
of  their  most  successful  somethings  were  not  among  the 
nothings  of  my  intellectual  no-doings.  But  all  strange 
things  are  less  strange  than  the  sense  of  intellectual  obli- 


628  A  MELANCHOLY  EXILE  [Sept. 

gations.  Seldom  do  I  ever  see  a  Keview,  yet  almost  as 
often  as  that  seldomness  permits  have  I  smiled  at  find- 
ing myself  attacked  in  strains  of  thought  which  would 
never  have  occurred  to  the  writer,  had  he  not  directly  or 
indirectly  learned  them  from  mj'self.  This  is  among  the 
salutary  effects,  even  of  the  dawn  of  actual  religion  on  the 
mind,  that  we  begin  to  reflect  on  our  duties  to  God  and 
to  ourselves  as  permanent  beings,  and  not  to  flatter  our- 
selves by  a  superficial  auditing  of  our  negative  duties  to 
our  neighbours,  or  mere  acts  in  transitu  to  the  transitory. 
I  have  too  sad  an  account  to  settle  between  myself  that  is 
and  has  been,  and  myself  that  can  not  cease  to  be,  to  al- 
low me  a  single  complaint  that,  for  all  my  labours  in  be- 
haK  of  truth  against  the  Jacobin  party,  then  against  mili- 
tary despotism  abroad,  against  weakness  and  despondency 
and  faction  and  factious  goodiness  at  home,  I  have  never 
received  from  those  in  power  even  a  verbal  acknowledg- 
ment ;  thoTigh  by  mere  reference  to  dates,  it  might  be 
proved  that  no  small  number  of  fine  speeches  in  the  House 
of  Commons,  and  elsewhere,  originated,  directly  or  indi- 
rectly, in  my  Essays  and  conversations.^  I  dare  assert, 
that  the  science  of  reasoning  and  judging  concerning  the 
productions  of  literature,  the  characters  and  measures  of 
public  men,  and  the  events  of  nations,  by  a  systematic 
subsumption  of  them,  under  Principles,  deduced  from 
the  nature  of  man,  and  that  of  prophesying  concerning 
the  future  (in  contradiction  to  the  hopes  or  fears  of  the 
majority)  by  a  careful  cross-examination  of  some  period, 
the  most  analogous  in  past  history,  as  learnt  from  contem- 
porary authorities,  and  the  proportioning  of  the  ultimate 
event  to  the  likenesses  as  modified  or  counteracted  by  the 
differences,  was  as  good  as  unkno\\Ti  in  the  public  prints, 

'  "  The  thoughts  of  Coleridge,  age,  the  great  moral  truths  which 
even  during  the  whirl  of  passing  were  then  being  proclaimed  in  char- 
events,  discovered  their  hidden  acters  of  fire  to  mankind."'  Alison's 
springs,  and  poured  forth,  in  an  ob-  History  of  Europe,  ix.  3  (ninth  edi- 
Bcure   style,   and  to   an   unheeding  tion). 


1814]  TO   DANIEL  STUART  629 

before  the  year  1795-96.  Earl  Darnley,  on  the  appear- 
ance of  my  letters  in  the  "  Courier "  concerning  the 
Spaniards,!  bluntly  asked  me,  whether  I  had  lost  my 
senses,  and  quoted  Lord  Grenville  at  me.  If  you  should 
happen  to  cast  your  eye  over  my  character  of  Pitt,^  my 
two  letters  to  Fox,  my  Essays  on  the  French  Emj^ire 
under  Buonaparte,  compared  with  the  Roman,  under  the 
first  Emperors  ;  that  on  the  probability  of  the  restoration 
of  the  Bourbons,  and  those  on  Ireland,  and  Catholic 
Emancipation  (which  last  unfortunately  remain  for  the 
greater  part  in  manuscript,  Mr.  Street  not  relishing  them), 
and  should  add  to  them  my  Essays  in  "  The  Friend  "  on 
Taxation,  and  the  supposed  effects  of  war  on  our  commer- 
cial jsrosperity ;  those  on  international  law  in  defence  of 
our  siege  of  Copenhagen  ;  and  if  you  had  before  you  the 
lonff  letter  which  I  wrote  to  Sir  G.  Beaumont  in  1806,^ 
concerning  the  inevitableness  of  a  war  with  America,  and 
the  sj^ecific  dangers  of  that  war,  if  not  provided  against 
by  si3ecific  pre-arrangements ;  with  a  list  of  their  Frigates, 
so  called,  with  their  size,  number,  and  weight  of  metal, 
the  characters  of  their  commanders,  and  the  proportion 
suspected  of  British  seamen.  —  I  have  luckily  a  co})y  of 
it,  a  rare  accident  with  me.  —  I  dare  amuse  myself,  I 
say,  with  the   belief,   that  by  far  the  better  half  of  all 

1  The  eight "  Letters  on  the  Span-  Six  Letters  to  Judge  Fletcher  on 

iards,"  which  Coleridge  contributed  Catliolic   Emancipation,   ■which    ap- 

to  the  Courier  in  December,  Janii-  peared  at  irregular  intervals  in  the 

ary,  1809-10,  are  reprinted   in  Es-  Courier,  September-December,  1814, 

says  on  His  Own  Times,  ii.  593-670.  are  reprinted  in  Essays  on  His  Own 

^  The  character  of  Pitt  appeared  Times,  iii.  077-733. 
in  the  Morning  Post,  March  19, 1800 ;  The  Essay  on  Taxation  forms  the 
the  letters  to  Fox,  on  November  4,  seventh  Essay  of  Section  the  First, 
9,  1802  ;  the  Essays  on  the  French  on  the  Principles  of  Political  Know- 
Empire,  etc.,  September  21,  25,  and  ledge.  The  Friend  ;  Coleridge'' s 
October  2,  1802 ;  the  Essay  on  the  M'orks,  Harper  &  Brothers,  1853, 
restoration  of   the  Bourbons,  Octo-  ii.  208-222. 

bar,  1802.     They   are   reprinted   in  ^  Neither    the    original    nor   the 

the  second  volume  of  Essays  on  His  transcript  of  this  letter  has,  to  my 

Own  Times,  knowledge,  been  preserved. 


G30  A  MELANCHOLY  EXILE  [Sept. 

these,  would  road  to  3'ou  now,  AS  history.  And  what  have 
I  got  for  all  this  ?  AVhat  for  my  first  daring  to  blow  the 
trumpet  of  sound  philosophy  against  the  Lancastrian  fac- 
tion? The  answer  is  not  complex.  Unthanked,  and  left 
worse  than  defenceless,  by  the  friends  of  the  Gov^ernment 
and  the  Establishment,  to  be  undermined  or  outraged  by 
all  the  malice,  hatred,  and  calumny  of  its  enemies ;  and 
to  think  and  toil,  with  a  patent  for  all  the  abuse,  and  a 
transfer  to  others  of  all  the  honours.  In  the  "  Quarterly  " 
Review  of  the  "  Remorse  "  (delayed  till  it  could  by  no 
possibility  be  of  the  least  service  to  me,  and  the  compli- 
ments in  which  are  as  senseless  and  silly  as  the  censures ; 
every  fault  ascribed  to  it,  being  either  no  improbability  at 
all,  or  from  the  very  essence  and  end  of  the  drama  no 
DRAMATIC  improbability,  without  noticing  any  one  of  the 
REAL  faults,  and  there  are  many  glaring,  and  one  or  two 
DEADLY  sins  in  the  tragedy)  —  in  this  Review,  I  am 
abused,  and  insolently  reproved  as  a  man,  with  reference 
to  my  supposed  private  habits,  for  not  publishing. 
Woidd  to  heaven  I  never  had !  To  this  very  moment  I 
am  embarrassed  and  tormented,  in  consequence  of  the 
non-payment  of  the  subscribers  to  "  The  Friend."  But  I 
could  rebut  the  charge ;  and  not  merely  say,  but  prove, 
that  there  is  not  a  man  in  England,  whose  thoughts,  im- 
ages, words,  and  erudition  have  been  published  in  larger 
quantities  than  mine;  though  I  must  admit,  not  hy,  or 
/or,  myself.  Believe  me,  if  I  felt  any  pain  from  these 
things,  I  should  not  make  this  e?rpose  ;  for  it  is  constitu- 
tional with  me,  to  shrinh  from  all  talk  or  communication 
of  what  gnaws  within  me.  And,  if  I  felt  any  real  anger, 
I  should  not  do  what  I  fully  intend  to  do,  publish  two 
long  satires,  in  Drydenic  verse,  entitled  "  Puff  and  Slan- 
der." 1     But  I  seem  to  myself  to  have  endured  the  hoot- 

1  He  reverts  to  this  "turning  of     dated  January  5,  1818.     He  threat- 
the  worm  "  in  a  letter  to  Morgan     ened  to  attack  publishers  and  print- 


1814]  TO   DANIEL  STUART  631 

ings  and  peltings,  and  "  Go  up  bald  head  "  (2  Kings,  ch. 
ii.  vs.  23,  24)  quite  long  enough ;  and  shall  therefore 
send  forth  my  two  she-bears,  to  tear  in  pieces  the  most 
obnoxious  of  these  ragged  children  in  intellect ;  and  to 
scare  the  rest  of  these  mischievous  little  mud-larks  back 
to  their  crevice-nests,  and  lurking  holes.  While  those 
who  know  me  best,  spite  of  my  many  infirmities,  love  me 
best,  I  am  determined,  henceforward,  to  treat  my  unpro- 
voked enemies  in  the  spirit  of  the  Tiberian  adage,  Oderint 
modo  timeant. 

And  now,  having  for  the  very  first  time  in  my  whole 
life  opened  out  my  whole  feelings  and  thoughts  concern- 
ing my  past  fates  and  fortunes,  I  will  draw  anew  on  your 
patience,  by  a  detail  of  my  present  operations.  My  med- 
ical friend  is  so  well  satisfied  of  my  convalescence,  and 
that  nothing  now  remains,  but  to  superinduce  j^ositive 
health  on  a  system  from  which  disease  and  its  removable 
causes  have  been  driven  out,  that  he  has  not  merely  con- 
sented to,  but  advised  my  leaving  Bristol,  for  some  rural 
retirement.  I  coidd  indeed  pursue  nothing  uninterrupt- 
edly in  that  city.  Accordingly,  I  am  now  joint  tenant 
with  Mr.  Morgan,  of  a  sweet  little  cottage,  at  Ashley,  haK 
a  mile  from  Box,  on  the  Bath  road.  I  breakfast  every 
morning  before  nine ;  work  till  one,  and  walk  or  read  till 
three.  Thence,  till  tea-time,  chat  or  read  some  lounge 
book,  or  correct  what  I  have  written.  From  six  to  eight 
work  again  ;  from  eight  till  bed-time,  play  whist,  or  the 
little  mock  billiard  called  bagatelle,  and  then  sup,  and  go 
to  bed.  My  morning  hours,  as  the  longest  and  most  im- 
portant division,  I  keep  sacred  to  my  most   important 

era  in  "  a  vig'orons  and  harmonious  stalment  of  "  these  two  long' satires." 

satire  "  to  be  called  "  PnlY  and  Slan-  Letter    in    British  Museum.     MSS. 

der."     I  am  inclined  to  think  that  Addit.  25612.     Samuel  Taylor  Cole- 

the  remarkable  verses  entitled  "  A  ridge,    a    Narrative    by    J.    Dykes 

Character,"  which  were  first  printed  Campbell,     p.  234,   note;    Poetical 

in  1834,  were  an  accomplished  in-  Works,  pp.  195,  642. 


632  A  MELANCHOLY  EXILE  [Sept. 

Work,i  wliic'li  is  printing  at  Bristol ;  two  of  my  friends 
having-  taken  ui)on  themselves  the  risk.  It  is  so  long 
since  I  have  conversed  with  you,  that  I  cannot  say, 
whether  the  subject  will,  or  will  not  be  interesting  to  you. 
The  title  is  "  Christianity,  the  one  true  Philosophy ;  or. 
Five  Treatises  on  the  Logos,  or  Communicative  Intelli- 
gence, natural,  human,  and  divine."  To  which  is  prefixed 
a  prefatory  Essay,  on  the  laws  and  limits  of  toleration  and 
liberality,  illustrated  by  fragments  of  AUTO-biography. 
The  first  Treatise  —  Logos  Propaideuticos,  or  the  Science 
of  systematic  thinking  in  ordinary  life.  The  second  — 
Logos  Architectonicus,  or  an  attempt  to  apply  the  con- 
structive or  Mathematical  process  to  Metaphysics  and 
Natural  Theology.  The  third  —  'O  Aoyo?  6  Ocdi'Opwn-o';  (the 
divine  logos  incarnate)  —  a  full  commentary  on  the  Gos- 
pel of  St.  John,  in  development  of  St.  Paul's  doctrine  of 
preaching  Christ  alone,  and  Him  crucified.  The  fourth 
—  on  Spinoza  and  Spinozism,  with  a  life  of  B.  Spinoza. 
This  entitled  Logos  Agonistes.  The  fifth  and  last,  Logos 
Alogos  (i.  c.  Logos  Illogicus),  or  on  modern  Unitarian- 
ism,  its  causes  and  effects.  The  whole  will  be  comprised 
in  two  portly  octavos,  and  the  second  treatise  will  be  the 
only  one  which  will,  and  from  the   nature  of  the  subject 

1  A  ■work  which  should  contain  tated  to  his  amanuensis  and  disciple, 
all  knowledge  and  proclaim  all  phi-  J.  H.  Green,  and  is  now  in  my  pos- 
losophy  had  been  Coleridge's  dream  session.  A  commentary  on  the  Gos- 
from  the  beginning,  and,  as  no  such  pels  and  some  of  the  Epistles,  of 
work  Avas  ever  produced,  it  may  be  which  the  original  MS.  is  extant, 
said  to  have  been  his  dream  to  the  and  of  which  I  possess  a  transcrip- 
end.  And  yet  it  was  something  tion,  was  an  accomplished  fact.  I 
more  than  a  dream.  Besides  innu-  say  nothing  of  the  actual  or  relative 
merable  fragments  of  metaphysical  value  of  this  unpublished  matter, 
and  theological  speculation  which  but  it  should  be  put  on  record  that 
have  passed  into  my  hands,  he  actu-  it  exists,  that  much  labour,  ill- 
ally  did  compose  and  dictate  two  judged  perhaps,  and  ineffectual  la- 
large  quarto  volumes  on  formal  logic,  bour,  was  expended  on  the  outworks 
which  are  extant.  "  Something  more  of  the  fortresses,  and  that  the  walls 
than  a  volume,"  a  portentous  intro-  and  bastions  are  standing  to  the 
duction  to  his  magnum  opus,  was  die-  present  day. 


1814]  TO  DANIEL  STUART  633 

must,  be  unintelligible  to  the  great  majority  even  of  well 
educated  readers.  The  purpose  of  the  whole  is  a  philo- 
sophical defence  of  the  Articles  of  the  Church,  as  far  as 
they  respect  doctrine,  as  points  of  faith.  If  originality  be 
any  merit,  this  Work  will  have  that,  at  all  events,  from 
the  first  page  to  the  last. 

The  evenings  I  have  employed  in  composing  a  series  of 
Essays  on  the  principles  of  Genial  Criticism  concerning 
the  fine  Arts,  especially  those  of  Statuary  and  Painting ;  ^ 
and  of  these  four  in  title,  but  six  or  more  in  size,  have 
been  published  in  "Felix  Farley's  Bristol  Journal;"  a 
strange  plan  for  such  a  publication ;  but  my  motive  was 
originally  to  serve  poor  Allston,  who  is  now  exhibiting 
his  pictures  at  Bristol.  Oh !  dear  sir !  do  pray  if  you 
have  the  power  or  opportunity  use  your  influence  with 
"  The  Sun,"  not  to  continue  that  accursed  system  of  cal- 
umny and  detraction  against  Allston.  The  articles,  by 
whomever  written,  were  a  disgrace  to  human  nature,  and, 
to  my  positive  knowledge,  argued  only  less  ignorance  than 
malignity.  Mr.  Allston  has  been  cruelly  used.  Good 
God !  what  did  I  not  hear  Sir  George  Beamnont  say,  with 
my  own  ears !  Nay,  he  wrote  to  me  after  repeated  exam- 
ination of  AUston's  great  picture,  declaring  himself  a 
complete  convert  to  all  my  opinions  of  AUston's  para- 
mount genius  as  a  historical  painter.  What  did  I  not 
hear  Mr.  West  say  ?  After  a  full  hour's  examination  of 
the  picture,  he  pointed  out  one  thing  he  thought  out  of 
harmony  (and  which  against  my  earnest  desire  Allston 
altered  and  had  reason  to  repent  sorely)  and  then  said, 
"  I  have  shot  my  bolt.  It  is  as  near  perfection  as  a  pic- 
ture can  be  !  "  .  .  . 

1  The  appearance  of  these  "  Essays  1885,   in  his  Miscellanies,  Esthetic 

on  the  Fine  Arts  "was  announced  in  and  Literary,  pp.  5-35.     Coleridge 

the    Bristol   Journal   of   Aiigust    G,  himself  "  set  a  high  value  ''  on  these 

1814.     They  were  reprinted  in  1837  essays.     See  Table  Talk  of  January 

by  Cottle,  in  his  Early  Recollections,  1,  1834. 
ii.  201-240,  and  by  Thomas  Ashe  in 


634  A  MELANCHOLY  EXILE  [Oct. 

But  to  return  to  my  Essays.  I  shall  publish  no  more 
in  Bristol.  What  they  could  do,  they  have  done.  But  I 
have  carefully  corrected  and  polished  those  already  pub- 
lished, and  shall  carry  them  on  to  sixteen  or  twenty,  con- 
taining- animated  descriptions  of  all  the  best  pictures  of 
the  great  masters  in  ICngland,  with  characteristics  of  the 
great  masters  from  Giotto  to  Correggio.  The  first  three 
Essays  were  of  necessity  more  austere ;  for  till  it  could  be 
determined  what  beauty  was ;  whether  it  was  beauty 
merely  because  it  pleased,  or  pleased  because  it  was 
beauty,  it  would  have  been  as  absurd  to  talk  of  general 
principles  of  taste,  as  of  tastes.  Now  will  this  series,  pu- 
rified from  all  accidental,  local,  or  personal  references, 
tint  or  serve  the  "  Courier "  in  the  present  dearth  ?  I 
have  no  hesitation  in  declaring  them  the  best  compositions 
/have  ever  written.  I  could  regularly  supply  two  Essays 
a  week,  and  one  political  Essay.  Be  so  good  as  to  speak 
to  Mr.  Street.^  I  could  send  him  up  eight  or  ten  at 
once. 

Make  my  best  respects  to  Mrs.  Stuart.  I  shall  be  very 
anxious  to  hear  from  you. 

Your  affectionate  and  grateful  friend, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CCIII.    TO   THE   SAME. 

"  October  30,  1814." 

Dear  Stuart,  —  After  I  had  finished  the  third  letter,^ 
I  thought  it  the  best  I  had  ever  written ;  but,  on  re- 
perusal,  I  perfectly  agree  with  you.  It  is  misty,  and  like 
most  misty  compositions,  lahorioiis,  —  what  the  Italians 
call  FATicoso.  I  except  the  two  last  paragraphs  ("  In 
this   guise   my  Lord,"    to  —  "  aversabitur  ").      These    I 

^  The     -working     editor     of    the  in  the  Couri'er,  October  21, 1814.    It 

Courier.  is  reprinted  in  Essays  on  His  Own 

2  The     third     letter     to     Judge  Times,  iii.  090-697. 
Fletcher  ou  Ireland  was  published 


1814]  TO  DANIEL  STUART  635 

still  like.  Yet  what  I  wanted  to  say  is  very  important, 
because  it  strikes  at  the  ROOT  of  all  legislative  Jacob- 
inism. The  view  which  our  laws  take  of  robbery,  and 
even  murder,  not  as  guilt  of  which  God  alone  is  pre- 
sumed to  be  the  Judge,  but  as  CRI3IES  depriving  the  King 
of  one  of  his  subjects,  rendering  dangerous  and  abating 
the  value  of  the  King's  PIigh.ways,  etc.,  may  suggest  some 
notion  of  my  meaning.  Jack,  Tom,  and  Harry  have  no 
existence  in  the  eye  of  the  law,  except  as  included  in 
some  form  or  other  of  the  permanent  property  of  the 
realm.  Just  as,  on  the  other  hand.  Religion  has  nothing 
to  do  with  Ranks,  Estates,  or  Offices;  but  exerts  itself 
wholly  on  what  is  personal,  viz.,  our  souls,  consciences, 
and  the  morality  of  our  actions,  as  opposed  to  mere 
legality.  Ranks,  Estates,  Offices,  etc.,  were  made  for 
persons  1  exclaims  Major  Cartwright  ^  and  his  partizans. 
Yes,  I  reply,  as  far  as  the  divine  administration  is  con- 
cerned, but  Imman  jurisprudence,  wisely  aware  of  its  own 
weakness,  and  sensible  how  incommensurate  its  powers 
are  with  so  vast  an  object  as  the  well-being  of  individuals, 
as  individuals,  reverses  the  position,  and  knows  nothing 
of  persons,  other  than  as  properties,  officiaries,  subjects. 
The  preambles  of  our  old  statutes  concerning  aliens  (as 
foreign  merchants)  and  Jews,  are  all  so  many  illustrations 
of  my  principle ;  the  strongest  instance  of  opposition  to 
which,  and  therefore  characteristic  of  the  present  age,  was 
the  attempt  to  legislate  for  animals  by  Lord  Erskine ;  ^ 

1  Jolin  Cartwright,  1740-1824,  Lords  May  15,  1809,  and  was  passed 
known  as  Major  Cartwright,  was  an  without  a  division.  The  Bill  was 
ardent  parliamentary  reformer  and  read  a  second  time  in  the  House  of 
an  advocate  of  universal  suffrage.  He  Commons  but  was  rejected  on  going 
refused  to  fight  against  the  United  into  committee,  the  opposition  being 
States  and  wrote  Letters  on  Ameri-  led  by  Windham  in  a  speech  of 
can  Independence  (1774).  considerable  ability. 

2  Lord  Erskine's  Bill  for  the  Pre-  By  "  imperfect "  duties  Coleridge 
vention  of  Cruelty  to  Animals  was  probable  means  "  duties  of  imper- 
brought  forward   in  the   House  of  feet  obligation." 


636  A  MELANCHOLY  EXILE  [Oct. 

that  is,  not  merely  interfering  with  persons  as  persons  ; 
or  with  what  are  called  by  moralists  the  imperfect  duties 
(a  very  obscure  phrase  for  obligations  of  conscience,  not 
capable  of  being-  realized  (^perfectd)  by  legal  penalties), 
but  extending  personality  to  things. 

In  saying  this,  I  mean  only  to  designate  the  general 
spirit  of  human  law.  Every  principle,  on  its  application 
to  practice,  must  be  limited  and  modified  by  circum- 
stances ;  our  reason  by  our  common  sense.  Still,  how- 
ever, the  PRINCIPLE  is  most  important,  as  aim,  rule,  and 
guide.  Guided  by  this  spirit,  our  ancestors  repealed  the 
Puritan  Law,  by  which  adidtery  was  to  be  punished  with 
death,  and  brought  it  back  to  a  civil  damage.  So,  too, 
actions  for  seduction.  Not  that  the  Judge  or  Legislator 
did  not  feel  the  guilt  of  such  crimes,  but  that  the  Law 
knows  nothing  about  guilt.  So,  in  the  Exchequer,  com- 
mon debts  are  sued  for  on  the  plea  that  the  creditor  is  less 
able  to  pay  our  Lord  the  King,  etc.,  etc.  Now,  contrast 
with  this,  the  preamble  to  the  first  French  Constitution, 
and  I  think  my  meaning  will  become  more  intelligible ; 
that  the  pretence  of  considering  persons  not  states,  happi- 
ness not  property,  always  has  elided,  and  always  will 
end,  in  making  a  new  state,  or  corporation,  infinitely 
more  oppressive  than  the  former ;  and  in  which  the  real 
freedom  of  persons  is  as  much  less,  as  the  things  inter- 
fered with  are  more  numerous,  and  more  minute.  Com- 
pare the  duties,  exacted  from  a  United  Irislmian  by  the 
Confederacy,  with  those  required  of  him  by  the  law  of  the 
land.  This,  I  think,  not  ill  expressed,  in  the  two  last 
periods  of  the  fourth  paragraph.  "  Thus  in  order  to 
sacrifice  .  .  .  confederation." 

Of  course  I  immediately  recognised  your  hand  in  the 
Article  concerning  the  "  Edinburgh  Review,"  and  much 
pleased  I  was  with  it ;  and  equally  so  in  finding,  from 
your  letter,  that  we  had  so  completely  coincided  in  our 


1814]  TO  DANIEL  STUART  637 

feelings,  concerning-  that  wicked  Lord  Nelson  Article.^ 
If  there  be  one  thing  on  earth  that  can  outrage  an  honest 
man's  feelings,  it  is  the  assumption  of  austere  morality 
for  the  purposes  of  personal  slander.  And  the  gross 
ingratitude  of  the  attack !  In  the  name  of  God  what 
have  we  to  do  with  Lord  Nelson's  mistresses,  or  domestic 
quarrels  ?  Sir  A.  Ball,  himself  exemplary  in  this  respect, 
told  me  of  his  own  personal  knowledge  Lady  Nelson  was 
enough  to  drive  any  man  wild.  .  .  .  She  had  no  sympa- 
thy with  his  acute  sensibilities,  and  his  alienation  was 
effected,  though  not  shown,  before  he  knew  Lady  Hamil- 
ton, by  being  heart  starved,  still  more  than  by  being 
teased  and  tormented  by  her  sullenness.  Observe  that 
Sir  A.  Ball  detested  Lady  Hamilton.  To  the  same  en- 
thusiastic sensibilities  which  made  a  fool  of  him  with 
regard  to  his  Emma,  his  country  owed  the  victories  of  the 
Nile,  Copenhagen,  and  Trafalgar,  and  the  heroic  spirit 
of  all  the  officers  reared  under  him. 

When  I  was  at  Bowood  there  was  a  plan  suggested 
between  Bowles  and  myself,  to  engage  among  the  cleverest 
literary  characters  of  our  knowledge,  six  or  eight,  each  of 
whom  was  to  engage  to  take  some  one  subject  of  those 
into  which  the  "  Edinburgh  Review  "  might  be  aptly  di- 
vided ;  as  Science,  Classical  Knowledge,  Style,  Taste, 
Philosophy,  Political  Economy,  Morals,  Religion,  and 
Patriotism ;  to  state  the  number  of  Essays  he  could 
write  and  the  time  at  which  he  would  deliver  each  ;  and  so 
go  through  the  whole  of  the  "  Review  "  :  —  to  be  i^ublished 
in  the  first  instance  in  the  "  Courier  "  during  the  Recess  of 
Parliament.    We  thought  of  Southey,  Wordsworth,  Crowe, 

1  This  article,  a  review  of  "  The  for  April,  1814.  The  attack  is 
Letters  of  Lord  Nelson  to  Lady  mainly  directed  against  Lady  Ham- 
Hamilton  ;  with  a  .Supplement  of  Uton,  but  Nelson,  with  every  pre- 
Interesting  Letters  by  Distinguished  tence  of  reluctance  and  of  general 
Personages.  2  vols.  Svo.  Lovewell  admiration,  is  also  censured  on 
and  Co.  London.  1814,"  appeared  moral  grounds,  and  his  letters  are 
in  No.  xxi.  of  The  Quarterly  Review,  held  up  to  ridicule. 


638  A  MELANCnOLY  EXILE  [Nov. 

Crabbe,  AVoUaston  ;  and  Bowles  thought  he  could  answer 
for  several  single  Articles  from  persons  of  the  highest 
rank  in  the  Church  and  our  two  Universities.  Such  a 
plan,  adequately  executed,  seven  or  eight  years  ago,  woidd 
have  gone  near  to  blow  up  this  Magazine  of  Mischief. 

As  to  Ridgeway  ^  and  the  Essays,  I  have  not  only  no 
objection  to  my  name  being  given,  but  I  should  prefer  it. 
I  have  just  as  much  right  to  call  myself  dramatically  an 
Irish  Protestant,  when  writing  in  the  character  of  one,  as 
Swift  had  to  call  liimseK  a  draper.^  I  have  waded 
through  as  mischievous  a  Work,  as  two  huge  quartos, 
very  dull,  can  be,  by  a  Mr.  Edward  Wakefield,  called  an 
Account  of  Ireland.  Of  all  scribblers  these  agricultural 
quarto-mongers  are  the  vilest.  I  thought  of  making  the 
affairs  of  Ireland,  in  toto,  chiefly  however  with  reference 
to  the  Catholic  Question,  a  new  series,  and  of  republish- 
ing in  the  Appendix  to  the  eight  letters  to  Mr.  Justice 
Fletcher,  Lord  Clare's  (then  Chancellor  Fitzgibbon's) 
admirable  speech,  worthy  of  Demosthenes,  of  which  a 
copy  was  brought  me  over  from  Dublin  by  Rickman, 
and  given  to  Lamb.  It  was  never  printed  in  England, 
nor  is  it  to  be  procured.  I  never  met  with  a  person 
who  had  heard  of  it.  Except  that  one  main  point  is 
omitted  (and  it  is  remarkable  that  the  poet  Edmund 
Spenser  in  his  Dialogue  on  Ireland  ^  is  the  only  writer  who 
has  urged  this  point),  \'iz.,  the  foi'cing  upon  savages  the 
laws  of  a  comparatively  civilised  people,  instead  of  adojDt- 
ing  measures  gradually  to  render  them  susceptible  of  those 
laws,  this  speech  might  be  deservedly  called  the  philoso- 

^  A  partner  in  the  publishing'  firm  why  he  adopted  the  French  instead 

of  Ridg'eway  and  Symonds.     Letters  of  the  English  spelling'  of  the  -word 

of  R.  Southey,  iii.  05.  does  not  seem  to  have  been  satisfac- 

^  The  reference  is  to  Swift's  fa-  torily  explained.      Notes    and   Que- 

mous     "  Drapior "    Letters.      Swift  ries,  III.  Series,  x.  5.5. 

■WTote  in  the  assumed  character  of  a  ^  fhe    Vieiv  of  the  State   of  Ire- 

draper.  and  dated  his  letters  "  From  land,  first  published  in  1033. 
my  shop  in  St.  Francis  Street,"  but 


1814]  TO  JOHN  KENYON  639 

phy  of  the  past  and  present  liistory  of  Ireland.  It  makes 
me  smile  to  observe,  how  all  the  mediocre  men  exult  in  a 
Ministry  that  have  been  so  successful  without  any  over- 
powering talent  of  eloquence,  etc.  It  is  true  that  a  series 
of  gigantic  events  like  those  of  the  last  eighteen  months, 
will  lift  up  any  cock-boat  to  the  skies  upon  their  billows ; 
but  no  less  true  that,  sooner  or  later,  parliamentary  talent 
will  be  found  absolutely  requisite  for  an  English  Ministry. 
With  sincere  regard  and  esteem,  your  obliged 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CCIV.    TO   JOHN   KENYON.l 

Mr.  B.  Morgan's,  Bath,  November  3  [1814]. 

My  dear  Sir,  —  At  Binn's,  Cheap  Street,  I  found 
Jeremy  Taylor's  "  Dissuasive  from  Popery,"  in  the  largest 
and  only  complete  edition  of  his  Polemical  Tracts.  Mr. 
Binns  had  no  objection  to  the  paragraphs  being  transcribed 
any  morning  or  evening  at  his  house,  and  I  put  in  a 
piece  of  paper  with  the  words  at  which  the  transcript 
should  begin  and  with  which  end  —  p.  450, 1.  5,  to  p.  451, 
1.  31,  I  believe.  But  indeed  I  am  ashamed,  rather  I  feel 
awkward  and  uncomfortable  at  obtruding  on  you  so  long 
a  task,  much  longer  than  I  had  imagined.  I  don't  like  to 
use  any  words  that  might  give  you  W7ipleasure,  but  I  can- 
not help  fearing  that,  like  a  child  spoilt  by  your  and  Mrs. 
Kenyon's  great  indulgence,   I   may  have  been  betrayed 

^  John  Kenyon,  1783-18.56, a  poet  is  known."      With  Coleridge  him- 

and  philanthropist.     He    settled  at  self   the  tie    was  less  close,  but  he 

Woodlands  nearStoweyin  1802,  and  was,  I  know,  a  most  kind  friend  to 

became  acquainted  with  Poole  and  the  poet's  wife  during  those  anxious 

Poole's   friends.     He   was  on  espe-  years,  1814-181!),  when  her  children 

cially  intimate  terms  with  Southey,  were  growing  up,  and  she  had  little 

who    writes   of    him    (January    11,  else  to  depend  upon  but  South  ey's 

1827)  to  his  still  older  friend  Wynne,  generous  protection  and  the  moiety 

as  "  one  of  the  very  best  and  pleas-  of    the  Wedgwood    annuity.     Ken- 

antest  men  whom  I  have  ever  known,  yon's  friendship  with  the  Brownings 

one  whom  every  one  likes  at  first  belongs  to  a  later  chapter  of  literary 

sight,  and  likes  better  the  longer  he  history. 


640  A  MELANCHOLY   EXILE  [April 

into  prcsumiug  on  it  more  than  I  ought.  Indeed,  my 
dear  sir !  I  do  feel  very  keenly  how  exceeding  kind  you 
and  Mrs.  K.  have  been  to  me.  It  makes  this  scrawl  of 
mine  look  dim  in  a  way  that  was  less  unconunon  with  me 
formerly  than  it  has  been  for  the  last  eight  or  ten  years. 

But  to  return,  or  turn  off,  to  the  good  old  Bishop.  It 
would  be  worth  your  while  to  read  Taylor's  "  Letter  on 
Original  Sin,"  and  what  follows.  I  compare  it  to  an  old 
statue  of  Janus,  with  one  of  the  faces,  that  which  looks 
towards  his  opponents,  the  controversial  phiz  in  highest 
preservation,  —  the  force  of  a  mighty  one,  all  power,  all 
life,  —  the  face  of  a  God  rushing  on  to  battle,  and,  in  the 
same  moment,  enjoying  at  once  both  contest  and  triumph  ; 
the  other,  that  which  should  have  been  the  countenance 
that  looks  toward  his  followers,  that  with  which  he  sub- 
stitutes his  own  opinion,  all  weather  eaten,  dim,  useless,  a 
Ghost  in  incn'hie,  such  as  you  may  have  seen  represented 
in  many  of  Piranesi's  astomiding  engi^avings  from  Rome 
and  the  Campus  ISIartius.  Jer.  Taylor's  discursive  intel- 
lect dazzle-darkened  his  intuition.  The  principle  of  be- 
coming all  things  to  all  men,  if  by  a7iy  means  he  might 
save  any,  with  him  as  with  Burke,  thickened  the  protect- 
ing epidermis  of  the  tact-nerve  of  truth  into  something 
like  a  callus.  But  take  him  all  in  all,  such  a  miraculous 
combination  of  erudition,  broad,  deep,  and  omnigenous ; 
of  logic  subtle  as  well  as  acute,  and  as  robust  as  agile ; 
of  psychological  insight,  so  fine  yet  so  secure !  of  public 
prudence  and  practical  sagoiess  that  one  ray  of  creative 
Faith  woidd  have  lit  up  and  transfigured  into  wisdom, 
and  of  genuine  imagination,  with  its  streaming  face  uni- 
fying all  at  one  moment  like  that  of  the  setting  sun  when 
through  an  interspace  of  blue  sky  no  larger  than  itself,  it 
emerges  from  the  cloud  to  sink  behind  the  mountain,  but 
a  face  seen  only  at  starts,  when  some  breeze  from  the 
higher  air  scatters,  for  a  moment,  the  cloud  of  butterfly 
fancies,  which  flutter  around  him  like  a  morning-garment 


1815]  TO  LADY  BEAUMONT  641 

of  ten  thousand  colours  —  (now  how  shall  I  get  out  of 
this  sentence  ?  the  tail  is  too  big  to  be  taken  up  into  the 
coiler's  mouth)  —  well,  as  I  was  saying,  I  believe  such  a 
comislete  man  hardly  shall  we  meet  again. 
May  God  bless  you  and  yours  ! 

Your  obliged  S.  T.  Coleridge. 

P.  S.     My  address  after  Tuesday  will  be  (God  permit- 
ting) Mr.  Page's,  Surgeon,  Cahie. 
J.  Kenyon,  Esq.,  9,  Argyle  Street. 

CCV.    TO   LADY   BEAUIVIONT. 

April  3,  1815. 
Dear  Madam,  —  Should  your  Ladyship  still  have 
among  your  papers  those  lines  of  mine  to  Mr.  Words- 
worth after  his  recitation  of  the  poem  on  the  growth  of 
his  own  &pirit,i  which  you  honoured  by  wishing  to  take 
a  copy,  you  would  oblige  me  by  enclosing  them  for  me, 
addressed  —  "  Mr.  Coleridge,  Calne,  Wilts."  Of  "  The 
Excursion,"  excluding  the  tale  of  the  ruined  cottage, 
which  I  have  ever  thought  the  finest  poem  in  our  language, 
comparing  it  with  any  of  the  same  or  similar  length,  I 
can  truly  say  that  one  half  the  number  of  its  beauties 
would  make  all  the  beauties  of  all  his  contemporary  poets 
collectively  moimt  to  the  balance  :  —  but  yet  —  the  fault 
may  be  in  my  own  mind  —  I  do  not  think,  I  did  not  feel, 
it  equal  to  the  work  on  the  growth  of  his  own  spirit.  As 
proofs  meet  me  in  every  part  of  "  The  Excursion  "  that 
the  poet's  genius  has  not  flagged,  I  have  sometimes  fan- 
cied that,  having  by  the  conjoint  operation  of  his  own 
experiences,  feelings,  and  reason,  himself  convinced  him- 
self oi  truths,  which  the  generality  of  persons  have  either 
taken  for  granted  from  their  infancy,  or,  at  least,  adopted 
in  early  life,  he  has  attached  all  their  own  depth  and 
weight  to  doctrines  and  words,  which  come  almost  as  tru- 

^  Poetical  Works,  p.  ITG;  Appendix  H,  pp.  525,  526. 


642  A  MELANCHOLY  EXILE  [April 

isms  or  commonplacos  to  others.  From  this  state  of  mind, 
in  which  I  was  comparing  Wordsworth  with  himself,  I 
was  roused  by  the  infamous  "  Edinburgh  "  review  of  the 
poem.  If  ever  guilt  lay  on  a  writer's  head,  and  if  malig- 
nity, slander,  hypocrisy,  and  self-contradictory  baseness 
can  constitute  guilt,  I  dare  openly,  and  openly  (please 
God !)  I  will,  impeach  the  writer  of  that  article  of  it. 
These  are  awful  times  —  a  dream  of  dreams !  To  be  a 
prophet  is,  and  ever  has  been,  an  unthankful  office.  At 
the  Illumination  for  the  Peace  I  furnished  a  design  for 
a  friend's  transparency  —  a  vrdture,  with  the  head  of  Na- 
poleon, chained  to  a  rock,  and  Britannia  bending  down, 
with  one  hand  stretching  out  the  wing  of  the  vulture,  and 
with  the  other  clipping  it  with  shears,  on  the  one  blade  of 
which  was  written  Nelson,  on  the  other  Wellington.  The 
motto  — 

We  've  fought  for  peace,  and  conquer'd  it  at  last ; 
The  ravening  Vulture's  leg  is  fetter'd  fast. 
Britons,  rejoice  !  and  yet  be  wary  too ! 
The  chain  may  break,  the  dipt  wing  sprout  anew.^ 

And  since  I  have  conversed  with  those  who  first  returned 
from  France,  I  have  weekly  expected  the  event.  Napo- 
leon's object  at  present  is  to  embarrass  the  Allies,  and  to 
cool  the  enthusiasm  of  their  subjects.  The  latter  he  un- 
fortmiately  will  be  too  successful  in.  In  London,  my 
Lady,  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  distinguish  the  oisinions  of 
the  people  from  the  ravings  and  railings  of  the  mob ;  but 
in  country  towns  we  must  be  blind  not  to  see  the  real  state 
of  the  popidar  mind.  I  do  not  know  whether  your  Lady- 
ship read  my  letters  to  Judge  Fletcher.  I  can  assure  you 
it  is  no  exaggerated  picture  of  the  predominance  of  Jacob- 
inism. In  this  small  town  of  Calne  five  hundred  volun- 
teers were  raised  in  the  last  war.  I  am  persuaded  that 
five  could  not  be  raised  now.     A  considerable  landowner, 

^  Poetical  Works,  p.  450. 


1815]  TO   LADY  BEAUMONT  643 

aud  a  man  of  great  observation,  said  to  me  last  week,  "  A 
famine,  sir,  could  scarce  have  produced  more  evil  than  the 
Corn  Bill  ^  has  done  under  the  present  circumstances."  I 
speak  nothing  of  the  Bill  itseK,  except  that,  after  the 
closest  attention  and  the  most  sedulous  inquiry  after  facts 
from  landowners,  farmers,  stewards,  millers,  and  bakers,  I 
am  convinced  that  both  opponents  and  advocates  were  in 
extremes,  and  that  an  evil  produced  by  many  causes  was 
by  many  remedies  to  have  been  cured,  not  by  the  imiversal 
elixir  of  one  sweeping  law. 

My  poems  will  be  put  to  press  by  the  middle  of  June. 
A  number  adequate  to  one  volume  are  already  in  the 
hands  of  my  friends  at  Bristol,  imder  conditions  that  they 
are  to  be  published  at  all  events,  even  though  I  should  not 
add  another  volume,  which  I  never  had  so  little  reason  to 
doubt.  Within  the  last  two  days  I  have  composed  three 
poems,  containing  500  lines  in  the  whole. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Morgan  present  their  respective  compli- 
ments to  your  Ladysliip  and  Sir  George. 

I  remain,  my  Lady,  your  Ladyship's  obliged  humble 
servant,  ^^ 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 


CCVI.    TO  WILLIAM  WORDSWORTH. 

Calne,  May  30,  1815. 
My  HONOURED  Friend,  —  On  my  return  from  Devizes, 
whither  I  had  gone  to  procure  some  vaccine  matter  (the 
small-pox  having  appeared  in  Calne,  and  Mrs.  Morgan's 
sister  believing  herself  never  to  have  had  it),  I  found  your 
letter :  and  I  will  answer  it  immediately,  though  to  answer 
it  as  I  coidd  wish  to  do  would  require  more  recollection 

^  In  1815  an  act  was  broug-ht  in  a  quarter.    During  the  spring  of  the 

by  Mr.  Robinson  (afterwards  Lord  year,  January-March,  while  the  bill 

Ripon)  and  passed,  pennitting  the  was  being- discussed,  bread-riots  took 

importation  of  corn  when  tlie  price  place  in  London  and  Westminster, 
of  home-grown  wheat  reached  80». 


644  A  MELANCHOLY  EXILE  [May 

and  arrangement  of  thought  than  is  always  to  be  com- 
manded on  the  instant.  But  I  dare  not  trust  my  own 
habit  of  procrastination,  and,  do  what  I  wouki,  it  would 
be  impossible  in  a  single  letter  to  give  more  than  general 
con^^ctions.  But,  even  after  a  tenth  or  twentieth  letter, 
I  should  still  be  disquieted  as  knowing  how  poor  a  substi- 
tute must  letters  be  for  a  viva  voce  examination  of  a  work 
with  its  author,  line  by  line.  It  is  most  uncomfortable 
from  many,  many  causes,  to  express  anything  but  sym- 
pathy, and  gratulation  to  an  absent  friend,  to  whom  for 
the  more  substantial  third  of  a  life  we  have  been  habit- 
uated to  look  up :  especially  where  a  love,  though  increased 
by  many  and  different  influences,  yet  begun  and  throve 
and  knit  its  joints  in  the  percej)tion  of  his  superiority. 
It  is  not  in  written  wo}'ds,  but  by  the  hundred  modifica- 
tions that  looks  make  and  tone,  and  denial  of  the  Jull 
sense  of  the  very  words  used,  that  one  can  reconcile  the 
struggle  between  sincerity  and  diffidence,  between  the  per- 
suasion that  I  am  in  the  right,  and  that  as  deej)  though 
not  so  vivid  conviction,  that  it  may  be  the  positiveness  of 
ignorance  rather  than  the  certainty  of  insight.  Then 
come  the  human  frailties,  the  dread  of  giving  pain,  or 
exciting  suspicions  of  alteration  and  dyspathy,  in  short,  the 
almost  inevitable  insincerities  between  imperfect  beings, 
however  sincerely  attached  to  each  other.  It  is  hard  (and 
I  am  Protestant  enough  to  doubt  whether  it  is  right)  to 
confess  the  whole  truth  (even  q/"  one's  self,  human  nature 
scarce  endures  it,  even  to  one's  self),  but  to  me  it  is  still 
harder  to  do  this  of  and  to  a  revered  friend. 

But  to  your  letter.  First,  I  had  never  determined  to 
print  the  lines  addressed  to  you.  I  lent  them  to  Lady 
Beaumont  on  her  promise  that  they  should  be  copied,  and 
returned ;  and  not  knowing  of  any  copy  in  my  own  pos- 
session, I  sent  for  them,  because  I  was  making  a  MS. 
collection  of  all  my  poems  —  publishable  and  unpublish- 
able  —  and  still  more  perhaps  for  the  handwriting  of  the 


1815]  TO  WILLIAM  WORDSWORTH  645 

only  perfect  copy,  that  entrusted  to  her  ladyship.  Most 
assuredly,  I  never  once  thought  of  printing  them  without 
having  consulted  you,  and  since  I  lit  on  the  first  rude 
draught,  and  corrected  it  as  well  as  I  could,  I  wanted  no 
additional  reason  for  its  not  being  published  in  my  life- 
time than  its  personality  respecting  myseK.  After  the 
opinions  I  had  given  publicly,  in  the  preference  of  "  Lyci- 
das  "  (moral  no  less  than  poetical)  to  Cowley's  Monody,  I 
could  not  have  printed  it  consistently.  It  is  for  the  bio- 
grapher, not  the  poet,  to  give  the  accidents  of  individual 
life.  Whatever  is  not  representative,  generic,  may  be  in- 
deed most  poetically  expressed,  but  is  not  poetry.  Other- 
wise, I  confess,  your  prudential  reasons  would  not  have 
weighed  with  me,  except  as  far  as  my  name  might  haply 
injure  your  reputation,  for  there  is  nothing  in  the  lines,  as 
far  as  your  powers  are  concerned,  which  I  have  not  as 
fully  expressed  elsewhere ;  and  I  hold  it  a  miserable  cow- 
ardice to  withliold  a  deliberate  opinion  only  because  the 
man  is  alive. 

Secondly,  for  "  The  Excursion,"  I  feared  that  had  I 
been  silent  concerning  "  The  Excursion,"  Lady  Beaumont 
would  have  drawn  some  strange  inference  ;  and  j^et  I  had 
scarcely  sent  off  the  letter  before  I  repented  that  I  had 
not  rim  that  risk  rather  than  have  approach  to  dispraise 
communicated  to  you  by  a  third  person.  But  what  did 
my  criticism  amount  to,  reduced  to  its  full  and  naked 
sense  ?  This,  that  comparatively  with  the  former  poem, 
"  The  Excursion,"  as  far  as  it  was  new  to  me,  had  disap- 
pointed my  expectations ;  that  the  excellencies  were  so 
many  and  of  so  high  a  class  that  it  was  impossible  to 
attribute  the  inferiority,  if  any  such  really  existed,  to  any 
flagging  of  the  writer's  own  genius  —  and  that  I  conjec- 
tured that  it  might  have  been  occasioned  by  the  influence 
of  self-established  convictions  having  g-iven  to  certain 
thoughts  and  expressions  a  depth  and  force  which  they 
had  not  for  readers  in  general.     In  order,  therefore,  to  ex- 


G4:Q  A  MELANCHOLY   EXILE  [May 

plain  the  disajijiointment^  I  must  recall  to  your  mind  what 
my  expectations  were:  and,  as  these  again  were  founded 
on  the  supposition  that  (in  whatever  order  it  might  be 
published)  the  poem  on  the  growth  of  your  own  mind  was 
as  the  ground  i)lot  and  the  roots,  out  of  which  "The  Re- 
cluse "  was  to  have  sprung  up  as  the  tree,  as  far  as  [there 
was]  the  same  sap  in  both,  I  expected  them,  doubtless,  to 
have  formed  one  complete  whole  ;  but  in  matter,  form, 
and  product  to  be  different,  each  not  only  a  distinct  but 
a  different  work.  In  the  first  I  had  found  "  themes  by 
thee  first  sung  aright," 

Of  smiles  spontaneous  and  mysterious  fears 
(The  first-born  they  of  reason  and  twin-birth) 
Of  tides  obedient  to  external  force, 
And  currents  self-determin'd,  as  might  seem, 
Or  by  some  central  breath  ;  of  moments  awful, 
Now  in  thy  inner  life,  and  now  abroad, 
When  power  stream'd  from  thee,  and  thy  soul  received 
The  light  reflected  as  a  light  bestowed ; 
Of  fancies  fair,  and  milder  hours  of  youth, 
Hyblaean  murmurs  of  poetic  thought 
Industrious  in  its  joy,  in  vales  and  glens 
Native  or  outland,  lakes  and  famous  hlUs ! 
Or  on  the  lonely  highroad,  when  the  stars 
Were  rising ;  or  by  secret  mountain  streams, 
The  guides  and  the  companions  of  thy  way  ; 
\  Of  more  than  fancy  —  of  the  social  sense 
Distending  wide,  and  man  beloved  as  man, 
Where  France  in  all  her  towns  lay  vibrating, 
Ev'n  as  a  bark  becalm'd  beneath  the  burst 
Of  Heaven's  immediate  thunder,  when  no  cloud 
Is  visible,  or  shadow  on  the  main  ! 
For  Thou  wevt  there,  thy  own  brows  garlanded, 
Amid  the  tremor  of  a  realm  aglow, 
Amid  a  mighty  nation  jubilant. 
When  from  the  general  heart  of  human  kind 
Hope  sprang  forth,  like  a  full-born  Deity ! 


/ 


1815] 


TO   WILLIAM  WORDSWORTH 


647 


Of  that  dear  Hope  afflicted,  and  amaz'd, 

So  homeward  sunimon'd !  thenceforth  calm  and  sure 

From  the  dread  watch-tower  of  man's  absolute  self, 

With  light  unwaning  on  her  eyes,  to  look 

Far  on  !  herself  a  glory  to  behold, 

The  Angel  of  the  vision  !     Then  (last  strain) 

Of  duty,  chosen  laws  controlling  choice. 

Action  and  Joy  !     An  Orphic  song  iJideed, 

A  song  divine  of  high  and  passionate  truths, 

To  their  own  music  chaunted  ! 

Indeed,  through  the  whole  of  that  Poem,  /xe  kvpa  ns 
€icre7rv€Do-€  fj-ovaLKwrdrr].  This  I  Considered  as  "  The  Excur- 
sion ; "  1  and  the  second,  as  "The  Recluse  "  I  had  (from 
what  I  had  at  different  times  gathered  from  your  conver- 
sation on  the  Place  [Grasmere])  anticipated  as  commen- 
cing with  you  set  down  and  settled  in  an  abiding  home, 
and  that  with  the  description  of  that  home  you  were  to 
begin  a  2)^ii^oso2)hical  poem,  the  result  and  fruits  of  a 


1  It  would  seem  that  Coleridge 
had  either  overlooked  or  declined 
to  put  faith  in  Wordsworth's  Apol- 
ogy for  The  Excursion,  which  ap- 
peared in  the  Preface  to  the  First 
Edition  of  1814.  He  was,  of  course, 
familiar  with  the  "  poem  on  the 
growth  of  your  mind,"  the  hitherto 
unnamed  and  unpublished  Prelude, 
and  he  must  have  been  at  least 
equally  familiar  with  the  earlier 
hooks  of  The  Excursion.  ^Vlly  then 
was  he  disappointed  with  the  poem 
as  a  whole,  and  what  had  he  looked 
for  at  Wordsworth's  hands  ?  Not, 
it  would  seem,  for  an  "ante-chapel," 
but  for  the  sanctuary  itself.  He 
had  been  stirred  to  the  depths  by 
the  recitation  of  The  Prelude  at 
Coleorton,  and  in  his  lines  "To  a 
Gentleman,"  which  he  quotes  in  this 
letter,   he    recapitulates   the   argu- 


ments of  the  poem.  This  he  consid- 
ered was  The  Excursion,  "  an  Orphic 
song  indeed  "  /  and  as  he  listened  the 
melody  sank  into  his  soul.  But  that 
was  but  an  exordium,  a  "  prelusive 
strain  "  to  The  Becluse,  which  might 
indeed  iuclude  the  Grasmere  frag- 
ment, the  story  of  Margaret  and  so 
forth,  but  which  in  the  form  of 
poetry  would  convey  the  substance 
of  divine  philosophy.  He  had 
looked  for  a  second  Milton  who 
would  put  Lucretius  to  a  double 
shame,  for  a  "philosophic  poem," 
which  would  justify  anew  "the 
ways  of  God  to  men ;  "  and  in  lieu  of 
this  pageant  of  the  imagination 
there  was  Wordsworth  prolific  of 
moral  discourse,  of  scenic  and  per- 
sonal narrative  —  a  prophet  indeed, 
but  "  unmindful  of  the  heavenly 
Vision." 


648  A  MELANCHOLY  EXILE  [May 

spirit  so  framed  and  so  disciplined  as  had  been  told  in 
the  former. 

Whatever  in  Lucretius  is  poetry  is  not  philosophical, 
whatever  is  philosophical  is  not  poetry  ;  and  in  the  very 
pride  of  confident  hope  I  looked  forward  to  "  The  Re- 
cluse "  as  the  first  and  only  true  philosophical  poem  in 
existence.  Of  course,  I  expected  the  colours,  music, 
\  imaginative  life,  and  passion  of  'poetry  ;  hut  the  matter 
and  arrangement  of  philosophy ;  not  doubting  from  the 
advantages  of  the  subject  that  the  totality  of  a  system 
was  not  only  capable  of  being  harmonised  with,  but  even 
calculated  to  aid,  the  unity  (beginning,  middle,  and  end) 
of  a  poem.  Thus,  whatever  the  length  of  the  work  might 
be,  still  it  was  a  determinate  length  ;  of  the  subjects 
announced,  each  would  have  its  own  appointed  place, 
and,  excluding  repetitions,  each  would  relieve  and  rise  in 
interest  above  the  other.  I  supposed  you  first  to  have 
meditated  the  faculties  of  man  in  the  abstract,  in  their 
correspondence  with  his  sphere  of  action,  and,  first  in  the 
feeling,  touch,  and  taste,  then  in  the  eye,  and  last  in  the 
ear,  —  to  have  laid  a  solid  and  immovable  foundation  for 
the  edifice  by  removing  the  sandy  sophisms  of  Locke,  and 
the  mechanic  dogmatists,  and  demonstrating  that  the 
senses  were  living  growths  and  developments  of  the  mind 
and  spirit,  in  a  much  juster  as  well  as  higher  sense,  than 
the  mind  can  be  said  to  be  formed  by  the  senses.  Next, 
I  understood  that  you  would  take  the  human  race  in  the 
concrete,  have  exploded  the  absurd  notion  of  Pope's 
"Essay  on  Man,"  Darwin,  and  all  the  countless  believers 
even  (strange  to  say)  among  Christians  of  man's  having 
progressed  from  an  ourang-outang  state  —  so  contrary  to 
all  history,  to  all  religion,  nay,  to  all  possibility — to  have 
affirmed  a  Fall  in  some  sense,  as  a  fact,  the  possibility  of 
which  cannot  be  understood  from  the  nature  of  the  will, 
but  the  reality  of  which  is  attested  by  experience  and 
conscience.      Fallen  men   contemplated  in  the  different 


1816]  TO   WILLIAM  WORDSWORTH  649 

ages  of  the  world,  and  in  the  different  states  —  savage, 
barbarous,  civilised,  the  lonely  cot,  or  borderer's  wigwam, 
the  village,  the  manufacturing  town,  seaport,  city,  univer- 
sities, and,  not  disguising  the  sore  evils  under  which  the 
whole  creation  groans,  to  point  out,  however,  a  manifest 
scheme  of  redemption,  of  reconciliation  from  this  enmity 
with  Nature  — what  are  the  obstacles,  the  Antichrist  that 
must  be  and  already  is  —  and  to  conclude  by  a  grand 
didactic  swell  on  the  necessary  identity  of  a  true  philo- 
sophy with  true  religion,  agreeing  in  the  results  and  differ- 
ing only  as  the  analytic  and  synthetic  process,  as  discur- 
sive from  intuitive,  the  former  chiefly  useful  as  perfecting 
the  latter ;  in  short,  the  necessity  of  a  general  revolution 
in  the  modes  of  developing  and  disciplining  the  human 
mind  by  the  substitution  of  life  and  intelligence  (consid- 
ered in  its  different  powers  from  the  plant  up  to  that 
state  in  which  the  difference  of  degree  becomes  a  new 
kind  (man,  self -consciousness),  but  yet  not  by  essential 
opposition)  for  the  philosophy  of  mechanism,  which,  in 
everything  that  is  most  worthy  of  the  human  intellect, 
strikes  Death,  and  cheats  itself  by  mistaking  clear  images 
for  distinct  conceptions,  and  which  idly  demands  concep- 
tions where  intuitions  alone  are  possible  or  adequate  to 
the  majesty  of  the  Truth.  In  short,  facts  elevated  into 
theory  —  theory  into  laws  —  and  laws  into  living  and 
intelligent  powers  —  true  idealism  necessarily  perfecting 
itself  in  realism,  and  realism  refining  itself  into  idealism.   7 

Such  or  something  like  this  was  the  plan  I  had  sup- 
posed that  you  were  engaged  on.  Your  own  words  will 
therefore  exj^lain  my  feelings,  viz.,  that  your  object  "  was 
not  to  convey  recondite,  or  refined  truths,  but  to  place  com- 
monplace truths  in  an  interesting  point  of  view."  Now 
this  I  suppose  to  have  been  in  your  two  volumes  of  poems, 
as  far  as  was  desirable  or  possible,  without  an  insight 
into  the  whole  truth.  How  can  common  truths  be  made 
permanently  interesting  but  by  being  bottomed  on  our 


650  A  MELANCHOLY  EXILE  [May 

commoii  nature  ?  It  is  only  by  the  profounclest  insight 
into  numbers  and  quantity  that  a  sublimity  and  even 
religious  wonder  become  attached  to  the  simplest  opera- 
tions of  arithmetic,  the  most  evident  properties  of  the 
circle  or  triangle.  I  have  only  to  finish  a  preface,  which 
I  shall  have  done  in  two,  or,  at  farthest,  three  days ;  and  I 
will  then,  dismissing  all  comparison  either  with  the  poem 
on  the  growth  of  your  own  support,  or  with  the  imagined 
plan  of  "  The  Recluse,"  state  fairly  my  main  objections 
to  "  The  Excursion  "  as  it  is.  But  it  would  have  been 
alike  vmjust  both  to  you  and  to  myself,  if  I  had  led  you 
to  suppose  that  any  disappointment  I  may  have  felt 
arose  wholly  or  chiefly  from  the  passages  I  do  not  like,  or 
from  the  poem  considered  irrelatively. 

Allston  lives  at  8,  Buckingham  Place,  Fitzroy  Square. 
He  has  lost  his  wife,  and  been  most  unkindly  treated  and 
most  unfortunate.  I  hope  you  will  call  on  him.  Good 
God !  to  think  of  such  a  grub  as  Dawe  with  more  than 
he  can  do,  and  such  a  genius  as  Allston  without  a  single 
patron ! 

God  bless  you !  I  am,  and  never  have  been  other  than 
your  most  affectionate 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Morgan  desire  to  be  affectionately  re- 
membered to  you,  and  they  would  be  highly  gratified  if 
you  could  make  a  little  tour  and  spend  a  short  time  at 
Calne.  There  is  an  admirable  collection  of  pictures  at 
Corsham.  Bowles  left  Bremhill  (two  miles  from  us, 
where  he  has  a  perfect  paradise  of  a  place)  for  town 
yesterday  morning. 


1815]  TO  THE  REV.  W.  MONET  G51 


CCVII.    TO   THE   REV.    W.    MONEY.^ 

Calne,  Wednesday,  1815. 

Dear  Sir,  —  I  have  seldom  made  a  greater  sacrifice 
and  gratification  to  prudence  than  in  the  determination 
most  rehictantly  formed,  that  the  state  of  my  health, 
which  requires  hourly  regimen,  joined  with  the  uncertain 
state  of  the  weather  and  the  perilous  consequences  of  my 
taking  cold  in  the  existing  weakness  of  the  viscera,  ren- 
ders it  improper  for  me  to  hazard  a  night  away  from  my 
home.  No  pleasure,  however  intellectual  (and  to  all  but 
intellectual  itleasures  1  have  long  been  dead,  for  surely 
the  staving  off  of  pain  is  no  pleasure),  could  repay  me 
even  for  the  chance  of  being  again  unwell  in  any  house 
but  ray  own.  I  have  a  great,  a  gigantic  effort  to  make, 
and  I  will  go  through  with  it  or  die.  Gross  have  been 
the  calumnies  concerning  me ;  but  enough  remains  of 
truth  to  enforce  the  necessity  of  considering  all  other 
things  as  unimportant  compared  with  the  necessity  of  liv- 
ing theyyi  doum.  This  letter  is,  of  course,  sacred  to  your- 
self, and  a  pledge  of  the  high  respect  I  entertain  for  your 
moral  being ;  for  you  need  not  the  feelings  of  friendship 
to  feel  as  a  friend  toward  every  fellow  Christian. 

To  turn  to  another  subject,  Mr.  Bowles,  I  understand, 
is  about  to  publish,  at  least  is  composing  a  reply  to  some 
answer  to  the  "  Velvet  Cushion."  ^  I  have  seen  neither 
work.  But  this  I  will  venture  to  say,  that  if  the  respond- 
ents in  favour  of  the  Church  take  upon  them  to  justify  in 
the  most  absolute  sense,  as  if  Scripture  were  the  subject 

^  The  Rev.  William  Money,  a  de-  ^  A   controversial    -work    on    the 

scendant  of  John  Kyrle,  the  ''  Man  inspiration    of    Scripture.      A   thin 

of   Ross,"  eulogised  alike  by  Pope  thread  of  narrative  runs  through  the 

and  Coleridge,  was  at  this  time  in  dissertation.      It  was   the   work  of 

possession    of    the    family    seat    of  the  Rev.  J.  W.  Cuimingham,  Vicar 

Whethara,  a  few  miles  distant  from  of   Harrow,  and  was  published  in 

Calne,  in  Wiltshire.     Coleridge  was  1813. 
often  a  guest  at  his  house. 


652  A  MELAXCIIOLY   EXILE  [1815 

of  the  controversy,  every  minute  part  of  our  admirable 
Liturgy,  and  liturgical  and  sacramental  services,  they  will 
only  furnish  new  trium})!!  to  ungenerous  adversaries. 

The  Church  of  England  has  in  the  Articles  solemnly 
declared  that  all  Churches  are  fallible  —  and  in  another, 
to  assert  its  absolute  immacidateness,  sounds  to  me  a  mere 
contradiction.  No !  I  would  first  overthrow  what  can  be 
fairly  and  to  all  men  intelligibly  overthrown  in  the  adver- 
saries' objections  (and  of  this  kind  the  instances  are  as 
twenty  to  one).  For  the  remainder  I  would  talk  like  a 
special  pleader,  and  from  the  defensive  pass  to  the  offen- 
sive, and  then  prove  from  St.  Paul  (for  of  the  practice 
of  the  early  Church  even  in  its  purest  state,  before  the 
reign  of  Constantine,  our  opponents  make  no  account) 
that  errors  in  a  Church  that  neither  directly  or  indirectly 
injure  morals  or  oppugn  salvation  are  exercises  for  mu- 
tual charity,  not  excuses  for  schism.  In  short,  is  there  or 
is  there  [not]  such  a  condemnable  thing  as  schism  ?  In 
the  proof  of  consequences  of  the  affirmative  lies,  in  my 
humble  opinion,  the  complete  confutation  of  the  (so-called) 
Evangelical  Dissenters. 

I  shall  be  most  happy  to  converse  with  you  on  the  sub- 
ject. If  Mr.  Bowles  were  not  employed  on  it,  I  should 
have  had  no  objection  to  have  reduced  my  many  thoughts 
to  order  and  have  published  them ;  but  this  might  now 
seem  invidious  and  like  rivalry. 

Present  my  best  respects  to  Mrs.  Money,  and  be  so 
good  as  to  make  the  fitting  apologies  for  me  to  Mr.  T. 
Methuen,^  the  man  wise  of  heart !  But  an  apology  al- 
ready exists  for  me  in  his  own  mind. 

I  remain,  dear  sir,  respectfully  your  obliged 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

Wednesday,  Calne. 

^  The  Hon.  and  Rev.  T.  A.  Me-  afterward  Lord  Methuen  of  Corsham 
thuen,  Rector  of  All  Cannings,  was  House.  He  contributed  some  rem- 
the  son  of  Paul  Methuen,  Esq.,  M.  P.,     iniscences  of  Coleridge  at  this  period 


1815]  TO   THE   REV.  W.  MONEY  653 

P.  S.  I  have  opened  this  letter  to  add,  that  the  greater 
number,  if  not  the  whole,  of  the  arguments  used  apply- 
only  to  the  ministers,  not  to  the  members  of  the  Estab- 
lished Church.  Some  one  of  our  eminent  divines  refused 
even  to  take  the  pastoral  office,  I  believe,  on  account  of 
the  Funeral  Service  and  the  Absolution  of  the  Sick ;  but 
still  it  remains  to  justify  schism  from  Church-Member- 
ship. 

To  the  Rev.  W.  Money,  Whetham. 

to  tho   Christian  Observer  of  1845.     tive,  by  J.  Dykes  Campbell,  1894,  p. 
Samuel   Taylor  Coleridge,  a  Narra-    208. 


CHAPTER   XIII 
NEW  LIFE  AND  NEW  FRIENDS 

1816-1821 


CHAPTER  XIII 

NEW  LIFE  AND   NEW   FRIENDS 

1816-1821 

With  Coleridge's  name  and  memory  must  ever  be  as- 
sociated the  names  of  James  and  Anne  Gillman.  It  was 
beneath  the  shelter  of  their  friendly  roof  that  he  spent 
the  last  eighteen  years  of  his  life,  and  it  was  to  their  wise 
and  loving  care  that  the  comparative  fruitfulness  and 
well-being  of  those  years  were  due.  They  thought  them- 
selves honoured  by  his  presence,  and  he  repaid  their  devo- 
tion with  unbounded  love  and  gratitude.  Friendship  and 
lovingkindness  followed  Coleridge  all  the  days  of  his  life. 
What  did  he  not  owe  to  Poole,  to  Southey  for  his  noble 
protection  of  his  family,  to  the  Morgans  for  their  long-tried 
faithfulness  and  devotion  to  himself?  But  to  the  Gill- 
mans  he  owed  the  "  crown  of  his  cup  and  garnish  of  his 
dish,"  a  welcome  which  lasted  till  the  day  of  his  death. 
Doubtless  there  were  chords  in  his  nature  wliich  w^ere 
struck  for  the  first  time  by  these  good  people,  and  in  their 
presence  and  by  their  help  he  was  a  new  man.  But,  for 
all  that,  their  patience  must  have  been  inexhaustible,  their 
loyalty  unimpeachable,  their  love  indestructible.  Such 
friendship  is  rare  and  beautiful,  and  merits  a  most  hon- 
ourable remembrance. 

CCVIII.    TO   JAMES    GILLMAN. 

42,  Norfolk  Street,  Strand, 
Saturday  noon,  [April  13,  1816.] 

My  DEAR  Sir,  —  The  very  first  half  hour  I  was  with 
you  convinced  me  that  I  should  owe  my  reception  into 


658  NEW  LIFE  AND   NEW   FRIENDS  [April 

your  family  exclusively  to  motives  not  less  flattering  to 
me  than  honourable  to  yourself.  I  trust  we  shall  ever  in 
matters  of  intellect  be  reciprocally  serviceable  to  each 
other.  Men  of  sense  generally  come  to  the  same  conclu- 
sion ;  but  they  are  likely  to  contribute  to  each  other's  ex- 
changement  of  view,  in  proportion  to  the  distance  or  even 
opposition  of  the  points  from  which  they  set  out.  Travel 
and  the  strange  variety  of  situations  and  employments  on 
which  chance  has  thrown  me,  in  the  course  of  my  life, 
might  have  made  me  a  mere  man  of  ohservation^  if  pain 
and  sorrow  and  self-miscomplacence  had  not  forced  my 
mind  in  on  itself,  and  so  formed  habits  of  yneditation.  It 
is  now  as  much  my  nature  to  evolve  the  fact  from  the 
law,  as  that  of  a  practical  man  to  deduce  the  law  from  the 
fact. 

With  respect  to  pecuniary  remuneration,^  allow  me  to 
say,  I  must  not  at  least  be  suffered  to  make  any  addition 
to  your  family  expenses  —  though  I  cannot  offer  anything 
that  would  be  in  any  way  adequate  to  my  sense  of  the  ser- 
vice ;  for  that,  indeed,  there  could  not  be  a  compensation, 
as  it  must  be  returned  in  kind,  by  esteem  and  grateful 
affection. 

And  now  of  myself.  My  ever  wakeful  reason,  and  the 
keenness  of  my  moral  feelings,  will  secure  you  from  all 
unpleasant  circmnstances  connected  with  me,  save   only 

1  The  annual  payments  for  board  no    pecuniary    obligation    on    Cole- 

and  lodging,  wbich  were  made    at  ridge's  part,  it  is  right  that  the  truth 

first,    for    some    time    before   Cole-  should    be    known.     On    the    other 

ridge's  death  fell  into  abeyance.  The  hand,  it    is  only  fair  to  Coleridge's 

approximate  amount  of  the  debt  so  memory    to   put   it  on   record    that 

incurred,  and  the  circumstances  un-  this  debt  of  honour  was  a  sore  trou- 

der  which  it  began  to  accumulate,  ble  to  him,  and  that  he  met  it  as 

are  alike  unknown  to  me.     The  fact  best  he  coidd.     We    know,  for   in- 

that  such  a  debt  existed  was,  I  be-  stance,  on  his  own    authority,  that 

lieve,  a  secret  jealously  guarded  by  the  profits  of  the  three  volume  edi- 

his  generous  hosts,  but  as,  with  the  tion  of  his  poems,  published  in  1828, 

best  intentions,  statements  have  been  were  made  over  to  Mr.  Gillman. 
made   to  the  effect  that  there  was 


1816]  TO  JAMES  GILLMAN  659 

one,  viz.,  tlie  evasion  of  a  specific  madness.  You  will 
never  A  ear  anything  but  truth  from  me:  —  prior  habits 
render  it  out  of  my  power  to  tell  an  untruth,  but  unless 
carefully  observed,  I  dare  not  promise  that  I  should  not, 
with  regard  to  this  detested  poison,  be  capable  of  acting 
one.  No  .sixty  hours  have  yet  passed  without  my  having 
taken  laudanum,  though  for  the  last  week  [in]  compara- 
tively trifling  doses.  I  have  full  belief  that  your  anxiety 
need  not  be  extended  beyond  the  first  week,  and  for  the 
first  week  I  shall  not,  I  must  not,  be  permitted  to  leave 
your  house,  unless  with  you.  Delicately  or  indelicately, 
this  must  be  done,  and  both  the  servants  and  the  assistant 
must  receive  absolute  commands  from  you.  The  stimulus 
of  conversation  suspends  the  terror  that  haunts  my  mind ; 
but  when  I  am  alone,  the  horrors  I  have  suffered  from 
laudanum,  the  degradation,  the  blighted  utility,  almost 
overwhelm  me.  If  (as  I  feel  for  tlie^rs^  time  a  soothing 
confidence  it  will  prove)  I  should  leave  you  restored  to 
my  moral  and  bodily  health,  it  is  not  myself  only  that  will 
love  and  honour  you;  every  friend  I  have  (and  thank 
God !  in  spite  of  this  wretched  vice,  I  have  many  and 
warm  ones,  who  were  friends  of  my  youth  and  have  never 
deserted  me)  will  thank  you  with  reverence.  I  have 
taken  no  notice  of  your  kind  apologies.  If  I  could  not  be 
comfortable  in  your  house,  and  with  your  family,  I  should 
deserve  to  be  miserable.  If  you  could  make  it  convenient 
I  should  wish  to  be  with  you  by  Monday  evening,  as  it 
would  prevent  the  necessity  of  taking  fresh  lodgings  in 
town. 

With  respectful  compliments  to  Mrs.  Gilhnan  and  her 
sister,  I  remain,  dear  sir,  your  much  obliged 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 


660  NEW  LIFE  AND   NEW  FRIENDS  [May 


CCIX.    TO    DANIEL   STUART. 

James  Gillman's,  Esq.,  Surgeon,  Highgate, 
Wednesday,  May  8,  1810. 

My  dear  Stuart,  —  Since  you  left  me  I  have  been 
reflecting  a  good  deal  on  the  subject  of  the  Catholic  Ques- 
tion, and  somewhat  on  the  "  Courier"  in  general.  AVith 
all  my  weight  of  faults  (and  no  one  is  less  likely  to 
underrate  them  than  myself)  a  tendency  to  be  influenced 
by  selfish  motives  in  my  friendships,  or  even  in  the  culti- 
vation of  my  acquaintances,  will  not,  I  am  sure,  be  hy  you 
placed  among  them.  When  we  first  knew  each  other,  it 
was  perhaps  the  most  interesting  period  of  both  our  lives,  at 
the  very  turn  of  the  flood  ;  and  I  can  never  cease  to  reflect 
with  affectionate  delight  on  the  steadiness  and  independ- 
ence of  your  conduct  and  principles  ;  and  how,  for  so 
many  years,  with  little  assistance  from  others,  and  with 
one  main  guide,  a  sympathising  tact  for  the  real  sense, 
feeling,  and  impulses  of  the  respectable  part  of  the  Eng- 
lish nation,  you  went  on  so  auspiciously,  and  likewise  so 
effectively.  It  is  far,  very  far,  from  being  a  hyperbole  to 
affirm,  that  you  did  more  against  the  French  scheme  of 
Continental  domination,  than  the  Duke  of  Wellington 
has  done  ;  or  rather  Wellington  could  neither  have  been 
supplied  by  the  Ministers,  nor  the  Ministers  supported  by 
the  Nation,  but  for  the  tone  first  given,  and  then  con- 
stantly kept  up,  by  the  plain,  unministerial,  anti-opposi- 
tion, anti-jacobin,  anti-gallican,  anti-Napoleonic  spirit  of 
your  writings,  aided  by  the  colloquial  style,  and  evident 
good  sense,  in  which  as  acting  on  an  immense  mass  of 
knowledge  of  existing  men  and  existing  circumstances, 
you  are  superior  to  any  man  I  ever  met  with  in  my  life- 
time. Indeed  you  are  the  only  human  being  of  whom  I 
can  say,  with  severe  truth,  that  I  never  conversed  with 
you  for  an  hour,  without  I'ememberable  instruction. 
And  with  the  same  simplicity  I  dare  affirm  my  belief,  that 
my  greater  knowledge  of  man  has  been  useful  to  you ; 


1816]  TO   DANIEL  STUART  GGl 

though  from  the  nature  of  things,  not  so  useful,  as  your 
knowledge  of  men  has  been  to  me.  Now  with  such  con- 
victions, my  dear  Stuart,  how  is  it  possible  that  I  can  look 
back  on  the  conduct  of  the  "  Courier,"  from  the  period 
of  the  Duke  of  York's  restoration,  without  some  pain? 
You  cannot  be  seriously  offended  or  affronted  with  me,  if 
in  this  deep  confidence,  and  in  a  letter  which,  or  its  con- 
tents, can  meet  no  eye  but  your  own,  I  venture  to  declare 
that,  though  since  then  much  has  been  done,  very  much  of 
high  utility  to  the  country  by  and  under  Mr.  Street,  yet 
the  "  Courier  "  itself  has  gradually  lost  that  sanctifying 
spirit  which  was  the  life  of  its  life,  and  without  which 
even  the  best  and  soundest  principles  lose  half  their  effect 
on  the  human  mind.  I  mean,  the  faith  in  the  faith  of 
the  person  or  paper  which  brings  them  forward.  They 
are  attributed  to  the  accident  of  their  happening  to  be 
for  such  a  side  or  such  a  party.  In  short  there  is  no 
longer  any  root  in  the  paper,  out  of  which  all  the  various 
branches  and  fruits  and  even  fluttering  leaves  are  seen  or 
believed  to  grow.  But  it  is  the  old  tree  barked  round 
above  the  root,  though  the  circular  decortication  is  so 
small,  and  so  neatly  filled  up  and  coloured  as  to  be  scarcely 
visible  but  in  its  total  effects.  Excellent  fruits  still  at 
times  hang  on  the  boughs,  but  they  are  tied  on  by  threads 
and  hairs. 

In  all  this  I  am  well  aware  that  you  are  no  otherwise  to 
blame,  than  in  permitting  what,  without  disturbance  to 
your  health  and  tranquillity,  you  could  not  perhaj^s  have 
prevented,  or  effectively  modified.  But  the  whole  plan  of 
Street's  seems  to  me  to  have  been  motiveless  from  the 
beginning,  or  at  least  affected  by  the  grossest  miscalcula- 
tions in  respect  even  of  pecuniary  interest.  For  had  the 
paper  maintained  and  asserted  not  only  its  independence 
but  its  appearance  of  it,  it  is  true  that  Mr.  Street  might 
not  have  had  Mr.  Croker  to  dine  with  him,  or  received  as 
many  nods  or  shakes  of  the  hand  from  Lord  this,  or  that, 
but  it  is  at  least  equally  true,  that  the  Ministry  would  have 


662  NEW  LIFE  AND   NEW  FRIENDS  [May 

been  far  more  effectually  served,  and  that  (I  speak  now 
from  facts)  both  paper  and  its  conductor  would  have 
been  held  by  the  adherents  of  Ministers  in  far  higher 
respect.  And  after  all,  Ministers  do  not  love  newspapers 
in  their  hearts  ;  not  even  those  that  support  them.  Indeed 
it  seems  epidemic  among  Parliament  men  in  general,  to 
affect  to  look  down  upon  and  to  despise  newspapers  to 
which  they  owe  -/oVo  ^^  *^^^^'  infl^e^^ce  and  character  — 
and  at  least  three  fifths  of  their  knowledge  and  phrase- 
ology. Enough !  Burn  this  letter  and  forgive  the  writer 
for  the  purity  and  affectionateness  of  his  motive. 

With  regard  to  the  Catholic  Question,  if  I  write  I  must 
be  allowed  to  express  the  truth  and  the  whole  truth  con- 
cerning the  imprudent  avowal  of  Lord  Castlereagh  that 
it  was  not  to  be  a  government  question.  On  this  condi- 
tion I  will  write  immediately  a  tract  on  the  question 
which  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge  will  be  about  from 
120  to  140  octavo  pages  ;  but  so  contrived  that  Mr.  Street 
may  find  no  difficulty  in  dividing  it  into  ten  or  twenty 
essays,  or  leading  paragraphs.  In  my  scheme  I  have 
carefully  excluded  every  approximation  to  metaphysical 
reasoning ;  and  set  aside  every  thought  which  cannot  be 
brousfht  under  one  or  the  other  of  three  heads  —  1.  Plain 
evident  sense.  2.  Historical  documental  facts.  3.  Ex- 
isting circumstances,  character,  etc.,  of  Ireland  in  relation 
to  Great  Britain,  and  to  its  own  interests,  and  those  of 
its  various  classes  of  proprietors.  I  shall  not  deliver  it 
till  it  is  whoUy  finished,  and  if  you  and  Mr.  Street  think 
that  such  a  work  delivered  entire  will  be  worth  fifty 
pounds  to  the  paper,  I  will  begin  it  immediately.  Let  me 
either  see  or  hear  from  you  as  soon  as  possible.  Cannot 
Mr.  Street  send  me  some  one  or  other  of  the  daily  papers, 
without  expense  to  you,  after  he  has  done  with  them? 
Kind  respects  to  Mrs.  Stuart. 

Your  affectionate  and  obliged  friend, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 


1816]  TO  DANIEL  STUART  G63 

CCX.    TO   THE   SAME. 

Monday,  May  13,  1816. 

Dear  Stuart,  —  It  Is  among  the  feeblenesses  of  our 
nature,  that  we  are  often,  to  a  certain  degree,  acted  on  by 
stories,  gravely  asserted,  of  which  we  yet  do  most  reli- 
giously disbelieve  every  syllable,  nay,  which  perhaps  we 
know  to  be  false.  The  truth  is  that  images  and  thoughts 
possess  a  power  in,  and  of  themselves,  independent  of  that 
act  of  the  judgment  or  understanding  by  which  we  affirm 
or  deny  the  existence  of  a  reality  corresi3ondent  to  them. 
Such  is  the  ordinary  state  of  the  mind  in  dreams.  It  is 
not  strictly  accurate  to  say  that  we  believe  our  dreams  to 
be  actual  while  we  are  dreaming.  We  neither  believe  it, 
nor  disbelieve  it.  With  the  will  the  comparing  power  is 
suspended,  and  without  the  comparing  power,  any  act  of 
judgment,  whether  affirmation  or  denial,  is  impossible. 
The  forms  and  thoughts  act  merely  by  their  own  inherent 
power,  and  the  strong  feelings  at  times  apparently  con- 
nected with  them  are,  in  point  of  fact,  bodily  sensations 
which  are  the  causes  or  occasions  of  the  images ;  not  (as 
when  we  are  awake)  the  effects  of  them.  Add  to  this  a 
voluntary  lending  of  the  will  to  this  suspension  of  one  of 
its  own  operations  (that  is,  that  of  comparison  and  conse- 
quent decision  concerning  the  reality  of  any  sensuous  im- 
pression) and  you  have  the  true  theory  of  stage  illusion, 
equally  distant  from  the  absurd  notion  of  the  French  crit- 
ics, who  ground  their  principles  on  the  presumption  of  an 
absolute  fZelusion,  and  of  Dr.  Johnson  who  would  persuade 
us  that  our  judgments  are  as  broad  awake  during  the 
most  masterly  representation  of  the  deepest  scenes  of 
Othello,  as  a  philosopher  woidd  be  during  the  exhibition 
of  a  magic  lanthorn  with  Punch  and  Joan  and  Pull  Devil, 
Pidl  Baker,  etc.,  on  its  painted  slides.  Now  as  extremes 
always  meet,  this  dogma  of  our  dramatic  critic  and  sopor- 
ific irenist  would  lead,  by  inevitable  consequences,  to  that 


G64 


NEW  LIFE  AND  NEW  FRIENDS 


[Feb. 


very  doctrine  of  the  unities  maintained  by  the  French 
Belle  Lettrists,  which  it  was  the  object  of  his  strangely 
overrated,  contradictory,  and  most  illogical  j^reface  to 
Shakespeare  to  overthrow. 

Thus,  instead  of  troubling  you  with  the  idle  assertions 
that  have  been  most  autlioritatively  uttered,  concerning 
your  being  under  bond  and  seal  to  the  present  Ministry, 
whic'li  I  know  to  be  (monosyllabically  s])eaking)  a  lie,  and 
which  formed,  I  guess,  part  of  the  impulse  which  occa- 
sioned my  last  letter,  I  have  given  you  a  theory  which,  as 
far  as  I  know,  is  new,  and  which  I  am  quite  sure  is  most 
important  as  the  ground  and  fundamental  principle  of  all 
philosophic  and  of  all  common-sense  criticisms  concerning 
the  drama  and  the  theatre. 

To  put  off,  however,  the  Jack-the-Giant-Killer-seven- 
leagued  boots,  with  which  I  am  apt  to  run  away  from  the 
main  purpose  of  what  I  had  to  write,  I  owe  it  to  myself 
and  the  truth  to  observe,  that  there  was  as  much  at  least 
of  i)artiality  as  of  grief  and  incidpation  in  my  remarks  on 
the  spirit  of  the  "  Courier ; "  and  that  with  all  its  faults, 
I  prefer  it  greatly  to  any  other  paper,  even  without  refer- 
ence to  its  being  the  best  and  most  effective  vehicle  of 
what  I  deem  most  necessary  and  urgent  truths.  Be  as- 
sured there  was  no  occasion  to  let  me  know,  that  with  re- 
gard to  the  proposed  disquisition  you  were  interested  as  a 
patriot  and  a  protestant,  not  as  a  proprietor  of  the  partic- 
ular paper.  Such  too.  Heaven  knows,  is  my  sole  object ! 
for  as  to  the  money  that  it  may  be  thought  worth  accord- 
ing to  the  number  and  value  of  the  essays,  I  regard  it 
merely  as  enabling  me  to  devote  a  given  portion  of  time 
and  effort  to  this  subject,  rather  than  to  any  one  of  the 
many  others  by  which  I  might  procure  the  same  remuner- 
ation. From  this  hour  I  sit  down  to  it  tooth  and  nail, 
and  shall  not  turn  to  the  left  or  right  till  I  have  finished 
it.  When  I  have  reached  the  half-way  house  I  will  trans- 
mit the  MSS.  to  you,  that  I  may,  without  the  necessity  of 


1817]  TO  JOHN  MURRAY  665 

clls-  or  re-arranging  tlie  work,  be  able  to  adopt  any  sug- 
gestions of  yours,  whether  they  should  be  additive,  alter- 
ative, or  emendative.  One  question  only  I  have  to  con- 
sult you  concerning  —  viz.,  the  form  which  woidd  be  the 
most  attractive  of  notice  ;  simply  essays  ?  or  letters  ad- 
dressed to  Lord  Liverpool  for  instance,  on  the  supposition 
that  he  remains  firm  to  the  Perceval  principle  on  this 
blind,  blundering,  and  feverous  scheme  ? 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gillman  will  be  most  happy  to  see  you 
to  share  in  a  family  dinner,  and  spend  the  evening  with 
us ;  and  if  you  will  come  early,  I  can  show  you  some  most 
delicious  walks.  You  will  like  Mr.  Gillman.  He  is  a 
man  of  strong,  fervid,  and  agile  intellect,  with  such  a  mas- 
ter passion  for  truth,  that  his  most  abstracted  verities  as- 
sume a  character  of  veracity.  And  his  wife,  it  will  be 
impossible  not  to  respect,  if  a  balance  and  harmony  of 
powers  and  qualities,  unified  and  spiritualized  by  a  native 
feminine  fineness  of  character,  render  womanhood  amia- 
ble and  respectable.  In  serious  truth  I  have  much  reason 
to  be  most  grateful  for  the  choice  and  chance  which  has 
placed  me  under  their  hosisitable  roof.  I  have  no  doubt 
that  Mr.  Gillman  as  friend  and  as  physician  will  succeed 
in  restoring  me  to  my  natural  self. 

My  kind  respects  to  Mrs.  Stuart.  I  long  to  see  the  lit- 
tle one. 

Your  obliged  and  sincere  friend, 

S.   T.    COLEKIDGE. 

CCXI.    TO   JOHN   MURRAY. 

HiGHGATE,  February  27,  1817. 
My  dear  Sir,  —  I  had  a  visit  from  IVIr.  Morgan 
yester-afternoon,  and  trouble  you  with  these  lines  in  con- 
sequence of  his  communications.  AVhen  I  stated  to  you 
the  circumstances  respecting  the  volumes  of  mine  that 
have  been  so  long  printed,  and  the  embarrassment  into 
which  the  blunder  of  the  printer  had  entangled  me,  with 


GQG  NEW  LIFE  AND  NEW  FRIENDS  [Feb. 

the  sinking  down  of  my  health  that  made  it  so  perplexing 
for  me  to  remedy  it,  I  did  it  under  the  belief  that  you 
were  yourself  very  little  disposed  to  the  publication  of  the 
"  Zapolya  "  ^  as  a  separate  work  —  unless  it  had,  in  some 
shape  or  other,  been  brought  out  at  the  Theatre.  Of  tliis 
I  seemed  to  have  less  and  less  chance.  What  had  been 
declared  an  indispensable  part,  and  of  all  the  play,  the 
most  theatrical  as  well  as  dramatic,  by  Lord  Byron,  was 
ridiculed  and  thrown  out  of  all  question  by  Mr.  Douglas 
Kinnaird,  with  no  other  exjjlanation  vouchsafed  but  that 
Lord  Byron  knew  nothing  about  the  matter  —  and,  be- 
sides that,  was  in  the  habit  of  overrating  my  perform- 
ances. These  were  not  the  words,  but  these  words  con- 
tain the  purport  of  what  he  said.  Meantune  what  Mr. 
D.  Kinnaird  most  warmly  approved,  Mr.  Harris  had 
previously  declared  would  convulse  a  house  with  laughter, 
and  damn  the  piece  beyond  any  possibility  of  a  further 
hearing.  Still  I  was  disposed  in  my  distressed  circum- 
stances of  means,  health,  and  spirits,  to  have  tried  the  plan 
suggested  by  Mr.  D.  Kinnaird  of  turning  the  "Zapolya" 
into  a  melodrama  by  the  omission  of  the  first  act.  But 
Mr.  K.  was,  with  Lord  Byron,  dropjied  from  the  sub- 
committee, and  I  knew  no  one  to  whom  I  could  apply. 
Mr.  Dibdin,  who  had  promised  to  befriend  me,  was  like- 

^  Zapolya :  A  Christmas  Tale,  in  ray,  dated  March  2G  and  March  29, 

two  Parts,  was  published  by  Rest  1817,  it  is  evident  that  the  £50  ad- 

Fenner  late  in  1817.    A  year  before,  vanced  on   A    Christmas    Tale  waa 

after  the  first  part  had  been  rejected  repaid.     In  acknowledging  the  re- 

by  the  Drury  Lane  Committee,  Cole-  ceipt  of  the  sum,  Murray  seems  to 

ridge  arranged  with  Murray  to  pub-  have  generously  omitted  all  mention 

lish  both  parts  as  a  poem,  and  re-  of  a   similar  advance   on    "a  play 

ceived  an   advance   of  £50   on  the  then  in  composition."     In  his  letter 

MS.     He  had,  it  seems,  applied  to  of  March  29,   Coleridge  speaks  of 

Murray  to  be  released  from  this  en-  this  second  debt,  which  does  not  ap- 

gagement,  and  on  the  strength  of  pear  to  have   been  paid.       Samuel 

an    ambiguous    reply,   offered    the  Taylor  Coleridge,  a   Narrative,  by 

work  to    the   publishers    of    Sybil-  J.    Dykes    Campbell,  p.    22.'? ;    ^fe- 

line  Leaves.      From  letters  to  Mur-  nioirs  of  John  Murray,  i.  ;]04-:306. 


1817]  TO  JOHN  MURRAY  667 

wise  removed  from  the  stage-managership.  Mr.  Rae 
did  indeed  promise  to  give  me  a  few  hours  of  his  time 
repeatedly,  and  from  my  former  acquaintance  with  him, 
as  the  Ordonio  of  the  "  Remorse,"  I  had  some  reason  to 
be  wounded  by  his  neglect.  Indeed,  at  Drury  Lane,  no 
one  knows  to  whom  any  effective  application  is  to  be 
made.  Mr.  Kinnaird  had  engaged  to  look  over  the 
"Zapolya"  with  me,  and  appointed  the  time.  I  went 
accordingly  and  passed  the  whole  of  the  fore-dinner  day 
with  him  —  in  what  ?  In  hearing  an  opera  of  his  own, 
and  returned  as  wise  as  I  came.  Much  is  talked  of  the 
advantages  of  a  managership  of  noblemen,  but  as  far  as 
I  have  seen  and  experienced,  an  author  has  no  cause  to 
congratulate  himself  on  the  change,  either  in  the  taste, 
courtesy,  or  reliability  of  his  judges.  Desponding  con- 
cerning this  (and  finding  that  every  publication  with  my 
name  would  be  persecuted  by  pre-determination  by  the 
one  guiding  party,  that  I  had  no  support  to  expect  from 
the  other,  and  that  the  thicker  and  closer  the  cloud  of 
misfortunes  gathered  round  me,  the  more  actively  and 
remorselessly  were  the  poisoned  arrows  of  wanton  enmity 
shot  through  it),  I  sincerely  believed  that  it  would  be 
neither  to  your  advantage  or  mine  that  the  "Zapolya" 
should  be  published  singly.  It  appeared,  at  that  time, 
that  the  annexing  to  it  a  collection  of  all  my  poems  would 
enable  the  work  to  be  brought  out  without  delay,  —  and  I 
therefore  applied  to  you,  offering  either  to  repay  the 
money  received  for  it,  or  to  work  it  out  by  furnishing  you 
with  miscellaneous  matter  for  the  "Quarterly,"  or  by 
sittino;  down  to  the  "  Rabbinical  Tales  "  ^  as  soon  as  ever 

1  Murray  had  offered    Coleridge  sue  of  The  Friend  (Nos.  x.,  xi.),  and 

two  hundred  g-uineas  for  "  a  small  these,    with   the    assistance    of    his 

volume  of  specimens  of  Rabbinical  friend   Hyman  Ilurwitz,  Master  of 

Wisdom,"  but  owing  to  pressure  of  the  Hebrew  Academy  at  Highgate, 

work  the   project    was    abandoned,  he  intended  to  supplement  and  ex- 

"  Specimens  of  Rabbinical  Wisdom  pand  into  a  volume.     Samuel   Tay- 

selected  from  the  Mishna  "  had  al-  lor   Coleridge,   a    Narrative,    by  J. 

ready  appeared  in  the  original  is-  Dykes  Campbell,  p.  224  and  uote. 


668  NEW  LIFE  AND  NEW  FRIENDS  [Feb. 

the  works  now  in  the  press  were  put  out  of  my  hand,  that 
is,  as  far  as  the  copy  was  concerned.  Your  answer  im- 
pressed nie  wath  your  full  assent  to  the  plan.  Nay,  how- 
ever mortifying-  it  might  in  ordinary  circumstances  have 
been  to  an  author's  vanity,  it  was  not  so  to  me,  that  the 
"  Zapolya"  was  a  work  of  which  you  had  no  objection,  to 
be  rid.  But,  if  I  misunderstood  you,  let  me  now  be  better 
informed,  and  whatever  you  wish  shall  be  done.  I  have 
never  knowingly  or  intentionally  been  guilty  of  a  dishon- 
ourable transaction,  but  have  in  all  things  that  respect  my 
neighbour  been  more  sinned  against  than  sinning.  JSIuch 
less  would  I  hazard  the  appearance  of  an  equivocal  con- 
duct at  present  when  I  feel  that  I  am  sinking  into  the 
grave,  with  fainter  and  fainter  hopes  of  achieving  that 
which,  God  knows  my  inmost  heart !  is  the  sole  motive 
for  the  wish  to  live  —  namely,  that  of  preparing  for  the 
press  the  results  of  twenty-five  years  hard  study  and 
almost  constant  meditation.  Reputation  has  no  charm 
for  me,  except  as  a  preventive  of  starving.  Abuse  and 
ridicule  are  all  w^hich  I  could  expect  for  myself,  if  the 
six  volumes  were  published  which  would  comprise  the 
sum  total  of  my  convictions ;  but,  most  thoroughly  satisfied 
both  of  their  truth  and  of  the  vital  importance  of  these 
truths,  convinced  that  of  all  systems  that  have  ever  been 
prescribed,  this  has  the  least  of  mysticism^  the  very  ob- 
ject throughout  from  the  first  page  to  the  last  being  to 
reconcile  the  dictates  of  common  sense  with  the  conclu- 
sions of  scientific  reasoning  —  it  woidd  assuredly  be  like 
a  sudden  gleam  of  sunshine  falling  on  the  face  of  a  dying 
man,  if  I  left  the  world  with  a  knowledge  that  the  work 
would  have  a  chance  of  being  read  in  better  times.  But 
of  all  men  in  the  way  of  business,  my  dear  sir !  I  should 
be  most  reluctant  to  give  you  any  just  cause  of  reproach- 
ing my  integrity  ;  because  I  know  and  feel,  and  have  at 
all  times  and  to  all  persons  who  had  any  literary  concerns 
with  me,  acknowledged  that  you  have  acted  with  a  friendly 


1817]  TO   JOHN  MURRAY  669 

kindness  towards  me,  —  and  if  Mr.  Gifford  have  taken  a 
prejudice  against  me  or  my  writings,  I  never  imputed  it 
as  blame  to  you.  Let  me  then  know  what  you  wish  me 
to  do,  and  I  will  do  it.  I  ought  to  add,  that  in  yielding 
to  the  proposal  of  annexing  the  "  Zapolya  "  to  the  volume 
of  poetry,  provided  I  coidd  procure  your  assent,  I  ex- 
pressly stipulated  that  if,  in  any  shape  or  modification,  it 
should  be  represented  on  the  stage,  the  copyright  of  it  in 
that  form  would  be  reserved  for  your  refusal  or  accept- 
ance, and,  in  like  manner  the  "  Christabel "  when  com- 
pleted, and  the  "Rabbinical  Tales."  The  second  "Lay 
Sermon  "  (a  most  unfortunate  name)  will  aiDj)ear,  I  trust, 
next  week. 

I  remain,  my  dear  sir,  with  respect  and  regard,  your 
obliged 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

P.  S.  I  have  not  seen  either  the  "  Edinburgh  "  ^  or  the 
"Quarterly"  last  Reviews.  The  article  against  me  in  the 
former  was,  I  am  assured,  written  by  Hazlitt.  Now  what 
can  I  think  of  Mr.  Jeffre}^,  who  knows  nothing  person- 
ally of  me  but  my  hospitable  attentions  to  him,  and  from 
whom  I  heard  nothing  but  very  high  seasoned  compli- 
ments, and  who  yet  can  avail  himself  of  such  an  instru- 

^  Apart  from    internal   evidence,  content  with  commissioning  Ilazlitt 

there  is  nothing  to  prove  that  this  to  review  the  book,  Jeffrey  appended 

article,   a  review  of   "Christabel,"  a  long  footnote  signed  with  his  ini- 

which  appeared  in  the  Edinburgh  Be-  tials,  in  wliich  he  indignantly  repudi- 

view,  December,  1810,  was  written  by  ates  the  charge  of  personal  animus, 

Hazlitt.     It  led,  however,  to  the  in-  and  makes  bitter  fun  of  Coleridge's 

sertion  of  a  footnote  in  the  firet  vol-  susceptibility  to  flattery,  and  of  his 

ume  of  the  Biographia  Literaria,  in  boasted   hospitality.      Southey   had 

which  Coleridge  accused  Jeffrey  of  offered    him    a  cup  of    coffee,  and 

personal  and  ungenerous  animosity  Coleridge  had  dined  witli  him  at  the 

against  himself,  and  reminded  him  inn.    Voila  tout.    Both  footnotes  are 

of  hospitality  shown  to  him  at  Kes-  good  reading.   Biographia  Literaria, 

wick,   and   of  the    complacent   and  ed.  1817,  i.  S'i  note  ;  Edinburgh  Re- 

flattering   language    which   he   had  view,  December,  1817. 
employed    on    that   occasion.     Not 


670  NEW  LIFE  AND  NEW  FRIENDS  [June 

ment  of  his  most  unprovoked  malignity  towards  me,  an 
inoffensive  man  in  distress  and  sickness  ?  As  soon  as  I 
have  read  the  article  (and  the  loan  of  the  book  is  prom- 
ised me),  I  shall  make  up  my  mind  whether  or  not  to 
address  a  letter,  publicly  to  Mr.  Jeffrey,  or,  in  the  form 
of  an  appeal,  to  the  public,  concerning  his  proved  pre- 
determined malice. 

Mr.  Murray,  Bookseller,  Albemarle  Street,  Piccadilly. 

CCXII.    TO   ROBERT   SOUTHEY. 

^^  '-^^ '  -^   •  ~  "  •  [May,  1817.] 

Dear  Southey,  —  Mr.  Ludwig  Tieck  ^  has  continued 
to  express  so  anxious  a  wish  to  see  you,  as  one  man  of 
genius  sees  another,  that  he  will  not  lose  even  the  slight 
chance  of  possibility  that  you  may  not  have  quitted  Paris 
when  he  arrives  there.  I  have  only  therefore  (should 
this  letter  be  delivered  to  you  by  Mr.  Tieck)  to  tell  you 
—  first,  that  Mr.  Tieck  is  the  gentleman  who  was  so  kind 
to  me  at  Rome  ;  secondly,  that  he  is  a  good  man,  emphat- 
ically, without  taint  of  moral  or  religious  infidelity ; 
thirdly,  that  as  a  poet,  critic,  and  moralist,  he  stands  (in 

1  Two  letters  from  Tieck  to  Cole-  Ilighgate  remain  unforgettable.     I 

ridge  have   been   preserved,  a  very  have    seen    your    friend    Robinson, 

long  one,  dated  February  20,  1818,  once  here  in   Dresden,  but    you  — 

in  which  he  discusses  a  scheme  for  At  that  time  I  believed  tliat  I  should 

bringing  out  bis  works  in  England,  come    again    to    England  —  and  in 

and  asks   Coleridge  if  he   has  sue-  such  hopes  we  grow  old  and  wear 

eeeded   in  finding   a   publisher   for  away. 

him,  and  the  following  note,  written  My  kindest  remembrances  to  your 

sixteen  years  later,  to  introduce  the  excellent  hosts  at  Highgate.     It  is 

German   painter,   Herr    von  Vogel-  with  especial   emotion   that    I  look 

stein.     I  am  indebted  to  my  cousin,  again  and  again  at  the  Anatomji  of 

Miss  Edith  Coleridge,  for  a  trausla-  Melancholy  [a  present  from  Mr.  Gill- 

tion  of  both  letters.  man],  as  well  as  the  Lay  Sermons, 

Chrislabel,  and  tlie  Biographia  Lite- 

Dresden,  April  HO,  1834.  raria.     Herr  von  Vogelstein,  one  of 

I  hope  that  my  dear  and  honoured  the  most  esteemed  histoiical  painters 

friend  Coleridge  still  remembers  me.  of  Germany,  brings  you  this   letter 

To   me   those   delightful   hours    at  from  your  loving 

LUDWIG  TXECK. 


1817]  TO  H.   C.  ROBINSON  671 

reputatioii)  next  to  Goethe  (and  I  believe  that  this  repu- 
tation will  he  fame)  ;  lastly,  it  will  interest  you  with  Bris- 
tol, Keswick,  and  Grasmere  associations,  that  Mr.  Tieck 
has  had  to  run,  and  has  run,  as  nearly  the  same  career  in 
Germany  as  yourself  and  Wordsworth  and  (by  the  spray 
of  being  known  to  be  intimate  with  you) 

Yours  sincerely,  S.  T.  Coleridge. 

P.  S.  Should  this  meet  jon^for  GocVs  sake,  do  let  me 
know  of  your  arrival  in  London ;  it  is  so  very  important 
that  I  should  see  you. 

R.  SOUTHEY,  Esq. 

Honoured  by  Mr.  LuDWiG  Tieck, 

CCXIII.    TO   H.   C.   ROBINSON.^ 

June,  1817. 
Mt  dear  Eobinson,  —  I  shall  never  forgive  you  if 
you  do  not  try  to  make  some  arrangement  to  bring  Mr.  L. 
Tieck  and  yourself  up  to  Highgate  very  soon.  The  day, 
the  dinner-hour,  you  may  appoint  yourself ;  but  what  I  most 
wish  would  be,  either  that  Mr.  Tieck  would  come  in  the 
first  stage,  so  as  either  to  walk  or  to  be  driven  in  Mr.  Gill- 
man's  gig  to  Caen  Wood,  and  its  delicious  groves  and 
alleys  (the  finest  in  England,  a  grand  cathedral  aisle  of 
giant  lime-trees.  Pope's  favourite  composition  walk  when 
with  the  old  Earl,  a  brother-rogue  of  yours  in  the  law 

1  Henry  Crabb   Robinson,  whose  Grasmere   and   Lanj^dale,  then  and 

admirable  diaries,  first  published  in  now  the  property  of  Mr.  Wheatley 

18G'.),  may,  it  is  hoped,  be  reedited  Balme.      This   must   have  been   in 

and  published  in  full,  died  at  the  18.57,  when  he  was  past  eighty  years 

age  of  ninety-one  in  1S07.     He  was  of  age.     My  impression  is   that  his 

a  constant  guest  at  my  father's  house  conversation  consisted,  for  the  most 

in  Chelsea  during  my   boyhood.     I  part,  of  anecdotes  concerniug  Wie- 

have,  too,  a  distinct  remembrance  of  land  and  Schiller  and  Goethe.     Of 

his   walking   over   Loughrigg  from  Wordsworth  and  Coleridge  he  must 

Rydal  Mount,  where  he  was  staying  have  had  much  to  say,  but  his  words, 

with   Mrs.  Wordsworth,  and  visiting  as  was  natural,  fell  on  the  unlieeding 

my  parents  at  High  Close,  between  ears  of  a  child. 


672 


NEW  LIFE   AND   NEW   FRIENDS 


[July 


liue),  or  else  to  come  up  to  dinner,  sleep  here,  and  return 
(if  then  return  he  must)  in  the  afternoon  four  o'eloek 
stage  the  day  after.  I  should  be  most  happy  to  make 
him  and  that  admirable  man,  Mr.  Frere,^  aequainted  — 
their  pursuits  have  been  so  similar —  and  to  convince  Mr. 
Tiec'k  that  he  is  tlic  man  among  us  in  whom  taste  at  its 
maxinuuu  has  vitalized  itself  into  productive  power.  [For] 
genius,  you  need  only  show  him  the  incomparable  trans- 
lation annexed  to  Southey's  "  Cid  "  (which,  by  the  bye, 
would  perhajjs  give  Mr.  Tieck  the  most  favourable  impres- 
sion of  Southey's  own  powers)  ;  and  I  would  finish  the 
work  off  by  Mr.  Frere's  "  Aristophanes."  In  such  GOOD- 
NESS, too,  as  both  my  Mr.  Frere  (the  Right  Hon.  J.  H. 
Frere),  and  his  brother  George  (the  lawyer  in  Brunswick 
Square),  live,  move,  and  have  their  being,  there  is  fjenius. 
I  have  read  two  pages  of  "Lalla  Rookh,"  or  whatever 
it  is  called.  Merciful  Heaven !  I  dare  read  no  more, 
that  I  may  be  able  to  answer  at  once  to  any  questions,  "  I 
have  but  just  looked  at  the  work."  O  Robinson !  if  I 
could,  or  if  I  dared,  act  and  feel  as  Moore  and  his  set  do, 
what  havoc  could  I  not  make  amongst  their  crockery- 
ware  !  Why,  there  are  not  three  lines  together  without 
some  adulteration  of  common  English,  and  the  ever-recur- 
ring blunder  of  using  the  possessive  case,  "  compassiori's 
tears,"  etc.,  for  the  preposition  "  of "  —  a  blunder  of 
which  I  have  found  no  instances  earlier  than  Dryden's 
slovenly  verses  written  for  the  trade.  The  ride  is,  that 
the  case  's  is  always  jjersonal  ;  either  it  marks  a  person, 
or  a  personification,  or  the  relique  of  some  proverbial  per- 
sonification, as  "  Who  for  their  belly's  sake,"  in  "  Lyci- 
das."     But  for  A  to  weep  the  tears  of  B  puts  me  in  mind 


^  The  Right  Hon.  John  Hookham 
Frere.  1709-1840,  now  better  known 
as  the  translator  of  Aristophanes 
than  as  statesman  or  diplomatist,  was 
a  warm  friend  to  Coleiidge  in  his 


later  years.  He  fig-nres  in  the  later 
memoranda  and  correspondence  as 
6  Ka\oKdyados,  the  ideal  Christian 
gentleman. 


1817]  TO  THOMAS  POOLE  673 

of  the  exquisite  jmssage  in  Rabelais  where  Panta"'iuel 
gives  the  page  his  cup,  and  begs  him  to  go  down  into  the 
courtyard,  and  curse  and  swear  for  him  about  half  an 
hour  or  so. 

God  bless  you !  S.  T.  Coleeidge. 

CCXIV.    TO   TH03IAS    POOLE. 

[July  22,  ISn.] 

My  dear  Poole,  —  It  was  a  great  comfort  to  me  to 
meet  and  part  from  you  as  I  did  at  Mr.  Purlds's :  ^  for, 
methinks,  every  true  friendship  that  does  not  go  with  us 
to  heaven,  must  needs  be  an  obstacle  to  our  own  going 
thither,  —  to  one  of  the  parties,  at  all  events. 

I  entreat  your  acceptance  of  a  corrected  cojiy  of  my 
"  Sibylline  Leaves  "  and  "  Literary  Life  ;  "  and  so  wildly 
have  they  been  printed,  that  a  corrected  copy  is  of  some 
value  to  those  to  whom  the  works  themselves  are  of  any. 
I  would  that  the  misprinting  had  been  the  worst  of  the 
delusions  and  ill-usage,  to  which  my  credulity  exposed 
me,  from  the  said  printer.  After  repeated  j)romises  that 
he  took  the  printing,  etc.,  merely  to  serve  me  as  an  old 
schoolfellow,  and  that  he  should  charge  "one  sixpence 
profit,"  he  charged  paper,  which  I  myself  ordered  for  him 
at  the  paper-mill,  at  twenty-five  to  twenty-six  shillings  per 
ream,  at  thirty-five  shillings,  and,  exclusive  of  this,  his 
bill  was  £80  beyond  the  sum  assigned  by  two  eminent 
London  printers  as  the  price  at  which  they  would  be  will- 


^  Samuel  Purkis,   of    Brentford,  ter  to  Poole  of  the  sarae  date,  he 

tanner  and  man  of   letters,  was  an  thus  describes  his  host :    "  Purkis  is 

early  friend  of  Poole's,  and  throu]n;'h  a  gentleman,  with  the  free  and  cor- 

him  became  acquainted  witli  Cole-  dial  and  interesting  manners  of  the 

ridge    and     Sir     Humphry     Davy,  man    of   literature.      His   colloquial 

When  Coleridge  went  up  to  London  diction  is  uncommonly  pleasing,  his 

in    June,    IT'.tS,   to    stay    with    the  information  various,    his    own    mind 

Wedgwoods  at  Stoke  House,  in  the  elegant  and  acute."     Thomas  Poole 

village  of  Cobham,he  stayed  a  night  and  his  Friends,  i.  271,  et  passim. 
at  Brentford  on  the  way.     In  a  let- 


674  NEW  LIFE  AND  NEW  FRIENDS  [July 

ing  to  print  the  same  quantity.     And  yet  even  this  is 
among  the  minima  of  his  Bristol  honesty. 

Tenner,^  or  rather  his  religious  factotum,  the  Rev.  T. 
Curtis,  ci-clevant  bookseller,  and  whose  affected  retirement 
from  business  is  a  humbug,  having  got  out  of  me  a  scheme 
for  an  Encyclopiiidia,  which  is  the  admiration  of  all  the 
Trade,  flatter  themselves  that  they  can  carry  it  on  by 
themselves.  They  refused  to  realise  their  promise  to  ad- 
vance me  X300  on  the  pledge  of  my  works  (a  proposal  of 
their  own)  unless  I  would  leave  Highgate  and  live  at 
Camber  well.  I  took  the  advice  of  such  friends  as  I  had 
the  opportunity  of  consulting  immediately,  and  after  tak- 
ing into  consideration  the  engagement  into  which  I  had 
entered,  it  was  their  unanimous  opinion  that  their  breach 
of  their  promise  was  a  very  fortunate  circumstance,  that 
it  could  not  have  been  kept  without  the  entire  sacrifice  of 
all  my  powers,  and,  above  all,  of  my  health  —  in  short, 
that  I  could  not  in  all  human  probability  survive  the  first 
year.  Mr.  Frere  yesterday  advised  me  strenuously  to 
finish  the  "  Christabel,"  to  keep  the  third  volume  of  "  The 
Friend"  within  a  certain  fathom  of  metaphysical  depth, 
but  within  that  to  make  it  as  elevated  as  the  subjects  re- 
quired, and  finally  to  devote  myself  industriously  to  the 
Works  I  had  planned,  alternating  a  poem  with  a  prose 
volume,  and,  unterrified  by  reviews  on  the  immediate  sale, 
to  remain  confident  that  I  should  in  some  way  or  other 
be  enabled  to  live  in  comfort,  above  all,  not  to  write  any 
more  in  any  newspaper.  He  told  me  both  Mr.  Canning 
and  Lord  Liverpool  had  spoken  in  very  high  terms  of  me, 
and  advised  me  to  send  a  copy  of  all  my  works  with  a  let- 
ter of  some  weight  and  length  to  the  Marquis  of  Welles- 

1  For  an   account  of   Coleridge's  cotVs    Mag.    for    June,    1870,    art. 

relations  with  his  publishers,   Fen-  "  Some  Unpublished  Correspondence 

ner  and  Curtis,  see  Samuel   Taylor  of  S.   T.   Coleridge,"   and   Brandl'a 

Coleridge,  a  Narrative,  by  J.  Dykes  Samuel    Taylor    Coleridge     and    the 

Campbell,  p.  227.     See,  too,  Lippin-  Romantic  School,  1887,  pp.  .3.">l-353. 


1817]  TO   TPIOMAS   POOLE  675 

ley.  He  offered  me  all  his  interest  with  regard  to  Der- 
went/  if  he  was  sent  to  Cambridge.  "It  is  a  point" 
(these  were  his  words)  "  on  which  I  shoidd  feel  myself 
authorised  not  merely  to  ask  but  to  require  and  impor- 
tune." 

Hartley  has  been  with  me  for  the  last  month.  He  is 
very  much  imj)roved ;  and,  if  I  coidd  see  him  more  sys- 
tematic in  his  studies  and  in  the  emplojiuent  of  his  time, 
I  should  have  little  to  complain  of  in  him  or  to  wish  for. 
He  is  very  desirous  to  visit  the  place  of  his  infancy,  poor 
fellow !  And  I  am  very  desirous,  if  it  were  practicable, 
that  he  should  be  in  the  neighbourhood,  as  it  were,  of  his 
uncles,  so  that  there  might  be  a  probability  of  one  or  the 
other  inviting  him  to  spend  a  few  weeks  of  his  vacation 
at  Ottery.  His  cousins^  (the  sons  of  my  brothers  James 
and  George)  are  very  good  and  affectionate  to  him ;  and 
it  is  a  great  comfort  to  me  to  see  the  chasm  of  the  first 
generation  closing  and  healing  up  in  the  second.  From 
the  state  of  your  sister-in-law's  health,  when  I  last  saw 
you,  and  the  probable  results  of  it,  I  cannot  tell  how  your 
household  is  situated.  Otherwise,  I  should  venture  to 
entreat  of  you,  that  you  would  give  poor  Hartley  an  in- 
vitation to  pass  a  fortnight  or  three  weeks  with  you  this 
vacation.^ 

^  J.  H.  Frere  was,  I  believe,  one  nephews  should  be  set  against  All- 

of  those  who  assisted  Coleridge  to  sop's   foolish   and   uncalled  for   at- 

send  his  younger  son  to  Cambridge.  tack  on  "  the  Bisliopand  the  Judge." 

2  Joha  Taylor   Coleridge   (better  Letters,  etc.,  of  S.  T.  Coleridge,  1836, 

known    as   Mr.    Justice   Coleridge),  i.  22.5,  note. 

and  George  May  Coleridge,  Vicar  of  ^  Poole's  reply  to  this  letter,  dated 

St.  Mary  Church,  Devon,  and  Pre-  Jidy  31,  1817,  contained  an  invita- 

bendary  of  Wells.     Another  cousin  tion  to  Hartley  to  come  to  Nother 

who   befriended    Hartley,  when  he  Stowey.   Mrs.  Sandford  tells  us  that 

was   an  undergraduate    at   Merton,  it  was  believed  that "  the  young  man 

and  again  later  when  ho  w.as  living  spent    more    tlian   one    vacation   at 

with  the  Montagus,  in  London,  was  Stowey,  where   lie  was  well-known 

William   Hart  Coleridge,  afterward  and  very  popular,  tliough  tlie  young 

Bisliop  of  Barbados.    The  poet's  own  ladies  of  the  place  eitlier  themselves 

testimony  to  the  good  work  of  his  called  him  the  Black  Dwarf,  or  cher- 


676  NEW  LIFE  AND  NEW   FRIENDS  [Oct. 

The  object  of  the  third  vohinie  of  my  "  Friend,"  which 
will  be  wholly  fresh  matter,  is  briefly  this,  —  that  moral- 
ity without  religion  is  as  senseless  a  scheme  as  religion 
without  morality ;  that  religion  not  revealed  is  a  contra- 
diction in  terms,  and  an  historical  nonentity ;  that  religion 
is  not  revealed  unless  the  sacred  books  containing  it  are 
interpreted  in  the  obvious  and  literal  sense  of  the  word, 
and  that,  thus  interpreted,  the  doctrines  of  the  Bible  are 
in  strict  harmony  with  the  Liturgy  and  Articles  of  our 
Established  Church. 

May  God  Almighty  bless  you,  my  dear  Friend !  and 
your  obliged  and  affectionately  grateful 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CCXV.    TO   H.    F.    CARY.l 

Little  Hajipton,  October  [29],  1817. 
I  regret,  dear  sir  !  that  a  slave  to  the  worst  of  tyrants 
(outward  tyrants,  at  least),  the  booksellers,  I  have  not 
been  able  to  read  more  than  two  books  and  passages  here 
and  tliere  of  the  other,  of  your  translation  of  Dante. 
You  will  not  susjiect  me  of  tlie  worthlessness  of  exceeding 
my  real  opinion,  but  like  a  good  Christian  will  make  even 
modesty  give  way  to  charity,  though  I  say,  that  in  the 
severity  and  learned  sijnjiliciti/  of  the  diction,  and  in  the 
peculiar  character  of  the  Blank  Verse,  it  has  transcended 


ished    a  conviction   that   that   was  tice  adopted  partly  for  the  sake  of 

his  nickname  at  Oxford."      Thomas  the   sea-breezes.    .    .    .    For   several 

Poole  and  his  Friends,  ii.  256-258.  consecutive    days  Coleridge  crossed 

^  The    Rev.    H.    F.    Gary,    1772-  ns  in  our  walk.     The  sound  of  the 

1S44,  the  well-kno\vn  translator   of  Greek,  and  especially  the  expressive 

the  Divina  Co nunedia.     His  son  and  countenance  of  the  tutor,  attracted 

biographer,   the  Rev.    Henry   Carj-,  his  notice ;    so  one  day,  as  we  met) 

g^ves  the  following  account  of  his  he    placed   himself    directly  in   my 

father's  first   introduction   to    Cole-  father's  waj'  and  thus  accosted  him  : 

ridge,   which  took  place  at   Little-  '  Sir,  yours  is  a  face  I  should  know 

hampton  in  the  autumn  of  1817  :  —  I   am  Samuel    Taylor   Coleridge.'  " 

"  It  was  our  custom  to  walk  on  the  Memoir  of  II.  F.  Cari/,  ii.  18. 
sands  and  read  Homer  aloud,  a  prac- 


1817]  TO   H.   F.   GARY  677 

what  I  should  have  thought  possible  without  the  Terza 
Rima.  In  itself,  the  metre  is,  compared  with  any  English 
poem  o£  one  quarter  the  length,  the  most  varied  and  har- 
monious to  my  ear  of  any  since  Milton,  and  yet  the  effect 
is  so  Dantesque  that  to  those  who  should  compare  it  only 
with  other  English  poems,  it  would,  I  doubt  not,  have 
the  same  effect  as  the  Terza  Rima  has  compared  with 
other  Italian  metres.  I  would  that  my  literary  influence 
were  enough  to  secure  the  knowledge  of  the  work  for  the 
true  lovers  of  poetry  in  general.^  But  how  came  it  that 
you  had  it  published  in  so  too  unostentatious  a  form  ? 
For  a  second  or  third  edition,  the  form  has  its  conven- 
iences ;  but  for  the  first,  in  the  present  state  of  EngKsh 
society,  qaod  non  arrogas  tibl,  nan  habes.  If  you  have 
any  other  works,  poems,  or  poemata,  by  you,  printed  or 
MSS.,  you  would  gratify  me  by  sending  them  to  me.  In 
the  mean  time,  accept  in  the  spirit  in  which  it  is  offered, 
this  trifling  testimonial  of  my  respect  from,  dear  sir. 

Yours  truly, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CCXVI.    TO   THE   SAME. 

Little  Hampton,  Sussex,  November  6,  1817. 
My  dear  Sir,  —  I  thank  you  for  your  kind  and  valued 
present,  and  equally  for  the  kind  letter  that  accompanied 
it.  What  I  expressed  concerning  your  translation,  I  did 
not  say  lightly  or  without  examination  :  and  I  know 
enough  of  myself  to  be  confident  that  any  feeling  of  per- 
sonal partiality  would  rather  lead  me  to  doubts  and  dis- 
satisfactions respecting  a  particular  work  in  proportion  as 
it  might  possibly  occasion  me  to  overrate  the  man.     For 

^  It  appears,  however,  that  he  un-  Court,  on  February  27,  1818,  led,  so 

derrated  his  position  as  a  critic.     A  his  son  says,  to  the  immediate  sale 

quotation  from  Gary's  Dante,  and  a  of   a    thousand    copies,  and   notices 

eulogistic  mention  of  the  work  gen-  "  reechoing  Coleridge's    praises  "  in 

erally,  in  a  lecture  on  Dante,  deliv-  the    Editiburgh    and    Quarterly   Be- 

ered  by  Coleridge  at  Flower-de-Luce  views.     Memoir  of  II.  F.  Cari/,  ii.  28. 


678  NEW  LIFE  AND  NEW  FRIENDS  [Nov. 

example,  if,  indeed,  I  do  estimate  too  highly  what  I  deem 
the  charaeteristic  exeellencies  of  Wordsworth's  poems,  it 
results  from  a  congeniality  of  taste  without  a  congeniality 
in  the  productive  i)ower ;  but  to  the  faults  and  defects  I 
have  been  far  more  alive  than  his  detractors,  even  from 
the  first  publication  of  the  "  Lyrical  Ballads,"  though  for 
a  long  course  of  years  my  oi)inions  were  sacred  to  his  own 
ear.  Since  my  last,  I  have  read  over  your  translation,  and 
have  carefully  compared  it  with  my  distinctest  recollec- 
tions of  every  specimen  of  blank  verse  I  am  familiar  with 
that  can  be  called  epic,  narrative,  or  descriptive,  exclud- 
ing only  the  dramatic,  declamatory,  and  lyrical  —  with 
Cowper,  Armstrong,  Southey,  Wordsworth,  Landor  (the 
author  of  "  Gebir  "),  and  with  all  of  my  own  that  fell 
within  comparisons  as  above  defined,  especially  the  pas- 
sage from  287  to  292,  "  Sibylline  Leaves,"  i  —  and  I  find 
no  other  alteration  in  my  judgement  but  an  additional 
confidence  in  it.  I  still  affirm  that,  to  my  ear  and  to  my 
judgement,  both  your  metre  and  your  rhythm  have  in  a 
far  greater  degree  than  I  know  any  instance  of,  the  variety 
of  Milton  without  any  mere  Miltonisms,  that  (wherein  I 
in  the  passage  referred  to  have  chiefly  failed)  the  verse 
has  this  variety  without  any  loss  of  continuity^  and  that 
this  is  the  excellence  of  the  work  considered  as  a  transla- 
tion of  Dante  —  that  it  gives  the  reader  a  similar  feeling 
of  wandering  and  wandering,  onward  and  onward.  Of 
the  diction,  I  can  only  say  that  it  is  Dantesque  even  in  that 
in  which  the  Florentine  must  be  preferred  to  our  English 
giant  —  namely,  that  it  is  not  only  pure  langxiacje^  but 
pure  JEnglish.  The  language  differs  from  that  of  a 
mother  or  a  well-bred  lady  who  had  read  little  but  her 
Bible,  and  a  few  good  books,  only  as  far  as  the  thoughts 
and  things  to  be  expressed  require  learned  words  from  a 
learned  poet !  Perhaps  I  may  be  thought  to  ajipreciate 
this  merit  too  highly ;  but  you  have  seen  what  I  have  said 
1  From  the  Destiny  of  Nations, 


1817]  TO  J.  H.   GREEN  679 

in  defence  of  tliis  in  the  "  Literary  Life."  By  tlie  bye, 
there  is  no  PuhlisJier  s  name  mentioned  in  the  title-page. 
Should  I  place  any  number  of  copies  for  you  with  Gale 
and  Curtis,  or  at  Murray's  ? 

Believe  me,  that  it  will  be  both  a  pleasure  and  a  relief 
to  my  mind  should  you  bring  with  you  any  MSS.  that 
you  can  yourself  make  it  so  as  to  read  them  to  me. 

Mrs.  Gillman  hopes,  that,  if  choice  or  chance  should 
lead  you  and  yours  near  Highgate,  you  will  not  dejirive 
us  of  the  opportunity  of  introducing  you  to  my  excellent 
friend  Mr.  Gillman,  and  of  shewing  by  our  gladness  how 
much  we  are,  my  dear  sir,  yours  and  Mrs.  Gary's  sincere 
respecters,  and  I  beg  you  will  accept  an  expression  of 
particular  esteem  from  your  old  lecturer, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

P.  S.  I  return  the  "  Prometheus  "  and  the  "  Persae  " 
with  thanks.  I  hope  the  Cambridge  Professor  will  go 
through  the  remaining  plays  of  ^schylus.  They  are  de- 
lightful editions. 

CCXVII.    TO   J.    H.    GREEN.l 

Highgate,  Friday  morning,  November  14, 1817. 

Dear  Sir, — I  arrived  at  Highgate  from  Little  Hamp- 
ton yester-night :  and  the  most  interesting  tidings  I  heard, 

1  Joseph    Henry     Green,    1791  -  years  to  pass  two  afternoons  of  the 

1863,  an  eminent  surgeon  and  anato-  week  at  Highgate,   and  on    these 

mist.     In  his  own  profession  he  won  occasions  as  amanuensis  and  coUab- 

distinction  as  lecturer    and    ojjera-  orateur,  he  helped  to  lay  the  foun- 

tor,  and  as  the  author  of  the  Bis-  datious     of     tlie     Magnum      Opus, 

eector^s    Manual,    and    some    pain-  Coleridge  appointed  him  his  literary 

phlets  on  medical  reform  and  edu-  executor,  and  bequeathed  to  him  a 

cation.  He  was  twice,  1849-50  and  mass   of    unj)ublished   MSS.    which 

1858-59,  President  of  the  College  of  it   was  hoped   he   would    reduce    to 

Surgeons.       His  acquaintance  with  order  and  publish  as  a  connected  sys- 

Coleridge,  wliich  began  in  1817,  was  tem  of  philosophy.     Two  addresses 

destined  to  influence  his  whole  ca-  whieli   he    delivered,    as  Huntorian 

reer.     It  was  liis  custom   for  many  Orations     in    1841     and     1847,    on 


080  NEW  LIFE  AND  NEW  FRIENDS  [Dec. 

were  of  your  return  autl  of  your  great  kindness  .  .  . 
I  can  only  say  that  I  will  call  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields  the 
first  day  I  am  able  to  come  to  town  —  but  should  your 
occupation  suffer  you  to  take  me  in  any  of  your  rides  for 
exercise  or  relaxation,  need  I  say  with  what  gladness  I 
shoulil  welcome  you?  Our  dinner-hour  is  four:  but 
alterable  without  inconvenience  to  earlier  or  later.  As 
soon  as  I  have  finished  my  present  slave-work  I  shall 
write  at  large  to  Mr.  Tieck.  Be  pleased  to  present  my 
respectful  regards  to  Mrs.  Green,  and  believe  me,  dear  sir, 
with  marked  esteem, 


Your  obliged 


S.  T.  Coleridge. 


CCXVIII.    TO  THE   SAME. 

[December  13, 1817.] 
My  dear  Sir,  —  I  thank  you  for  the  transcript.     The 
lecture  ^  went  off  beyond  my  expectations ;  and  in  several 
parts,  where   the  thoughts  were  the   same,  more  happily 

"  Vital  Dynamics  "  and  "  Mental  Dy-  healing  waters   of  Faith  and  Hope, 

namics,"  were  published  in  his  life-  Spiritual  Philosophy,  by  J.  H.  Green  ; 

time,  and  after  his  death  two  vol-  Memoir  of  the  author's  life,  i.-lix. 

umes  entitled   Spiritual  Philosophy,  ^  This   must   have    been  the  im- 

founded   on  the    Teaching   of  S.    T.  proniptu    lecture    "  On    the  Growth 

Coleridge,  were  issued,  together  with  of  the  Individual  Mind,"  delivered 

a  memoir,  by  his  friend  and  former  at  the  rooms  of  the  London  Philo- 

pnpil,  Sir  John  fSimon.  sophical     Society.       According     to 

His  fame  has  suffered  eclipse  ow-  Gillman,   who   details  tlie    circum- 

ing  in  great  measure  to  his  chival-  stances  under  which  the  address  wiis 

rous  if  imsuecessful  attempt  to  do  given,  but  does  not  suj)ply  the  date, 

honour   to    Coleridge.      But  he  de-  the  lecturer  began  with  an  "  apolo- 

serves  to  stand  alone.     Members  of  getic  preface  "  :  "  The  lecture  I  am 

his   own   profession    not    versed    in  about  to  give  this  evening  is  purely 

polar  logic  looked  up  to  his  "  great  extempore.     Should  you  find  a  riom- 

and  noble  intellect  "  with  pride  and  inative  case  looking  out  for  a  verb  — 

delight,  and  by  those  who  were  hon-  or  a  fatherless  verb  for  a  nomina^ 

cured  by  his  intimacy  he  was  held  tive  case,  you  must  excuse  it.     It  is 

in  love  and  reverence.     To  Coleridge  purely  extempore,    though    I    have 

he   was    a   friend    indeed,  bringing  thought    and    read    much    on    this 

with     him    balms    more     soothing  subject."      Life    of    Coleridge,   pp. 

than  "poppy   or  mandragora,"   the  354-357. 


1817]  TO   J.   H.   GREEN  681 

expressed  extempore  than  in  the  Essay  on  the  Science 
of  Method^  for  the  "Encyclopaedia  Metropolitana."  How- 
ever, you  shall  receive  the  first  correct  copy  of  the  latter 
that  I  can  procure.  I  would  that  I  could  present  it  to 
you,  as  it  was  written  ;  though  I  am  not  inclined  to  quar- 
rel with  the  judgment  and  prudence  of  omission,  as  far  as 
the  public  are  concerned.  Be  assured,  I  shall  not  fail  to 
avail  myself  of  your  kind  invitation,  and  that  time  passes 
happily  with  me  under  your  roof,  receiving  and  returning. 
Be  pleased  to  make  my  best  respects  to  Mrs.  Green,  and 
I  beg  her  acceptance  of  the  "  Hebrew  Dirge  "  with  my 
free  translation,^  of  which  I  will,  as  soon  as  it  is  printed, 
send  her  the  music,  viz.  the  original  melody,  and  Bishop's 
additional  music.  Of  this  I  am  convinced,  that  a  dozen  of 
such  "  very  pretty, ^^  and  "  so  siceet,'"'  and  "  how  smooth," 
"  well,  that  is  charming  "  compositions  would  gain  me  more 
admiration  with  the  English  public  than  twice  the  num- 
ber of  poems  twice  as  good  as  the  "  Ancient  Mariner," 
the  "  Christabel,"  the  "  Destiny  of  Nations,"  or  the  "  Ode 
to  the  Departing  Year." 

My  own  opinion  of  the  German  philosophers  does  not 
greatly  differ  from  yours ;  much  in  several  of  them  is 
unintelligible  to  me,  and  more  unsatisfactory.  But  I 
make  a  division.  I  reject  Kant's  stoic  principle,  as  false, 
unnatural,  and  even  immoral,  where  in  his  "  Kritik  der 

^  The  "  Essay  on  the  Science   of  on  the  day  of  the  Funeral  of  her 

Method"    was    finished    in  Decern-  Royal  Highness  the  Princess  Char- 

ber,  1817,  and  printed  in  the  follow-  lotte.     By  Hyinan  Hurwitz,  Master 

ing  January.     Samuel   Taylor  Cole-  of  the  Hebrew  Academy,  Highgate, 

ridge,   a    Narrative,   by   J.    Dykes  1817." 
Campbell,  1894,  p.  232.  The  translation  is  below  Coleridge 

2  The    Hebrew    text    and    Cole-  at  his  worst.     The  ''  Harp  of  Qu.m- 

ridge's  translation  were  published  in  tock  "  must,  indeed,  have  required 

the   form  of  a  pamphlet,  and  sold  stringing  before  such  a  line  as  "For 

by  "  T.  Boosey,  4  Old  Broad  Street,  England's  Lady  is  laid   low  "  could 

1817."    The  full  title  was  "  Israel's  liave  escaped  the  file,  or  "  worn  her" 

Lament.     Translation  of  a  Hebrew  be  permitted  to  rhyme  with  "  mourn- 

dirge,  chaunted  in  the  Great  Syna-  er"!     Poetical  Works,  p.  187;  Ed- 

gogue,  St.  James'  Place,  Aldgate,  itor's  Note,  p.  G38. 


G82  NEW  LIFE  AND  NEW  FRIENDS  [Dec. 

praktiselieu  Vernunft,"  ^  he  treats  the  affections  as  indif- 
ferent (d6t(i<^()/Ki)  in  ethies,  and  wouhl  persuade  us  that  a 
man  who  disliking,  and  without  any  feehng  of  love  for 
virtue,  yet  acted  virtuously,  because  and  only  because  his 
dttty^  is  more  worthy  of  our  esteem,  than  the  man  whose 
affections  were  aidant  to  and  congruous  with  his  con- 
science. For  it  would  imply  little  less  than  that  things 
not  the  objects  of  the  moral  will  or  under  its  control  were 
yet  indispensable  to  its  due  practical  direction.  In  other 
words,  it  would  subvert  his  own  sj'stem.  Likewise,  his 
remarks  on  prayer  in  his  "  Religion  innerhalb  der  reinen 
Vernunft,"  are  crass,  nay  vulgar  and  as  superficial  even  in 
psychology  as  they  are  low  in  taste.  But  with  these  ex- 
ceptions, I  reverence  Immanuel  Kant  with  my  whole  heart 
and  soul,  and  believe  him  to  be  the  only  philosopher,  for 
all  men  who  have  the  power  of  thinking.  I  cannot  con- 
ceive the  liberal  pursuit  or  profession,  in  which  the  service 
derived  from  a  patient  study  of  his  works  would  not  be 
incalculably  great,  both  as  cathartic,  tonic,  and  directly 
nutritious. 

Fichte  in  his  moral  system  is  but  a  caricature  of  Kant's, 
or  rather,  he  is  a  Zeno,  with  the  cowl,  rope,  and  sackcloth 
of  a  Carthusian  monk.  His  metaphysics  have  gone  by ; 
but  he  hath  merit  of  having  prepared  the  ground  for,  and 
laid  the  first  stone  of,  the  dynamic  philosophy  by  the  sub- 
stitution of  Act  for  Thing,  Der  einfilhren  Actionen  statt 
der  Dinge  an  sich.  Of  the  Natur-j)1iiloso2)h.en^  as  far  as 
physical  dynamics  are  concerned  and  as  opposed  to  the 
mechanic  corpuscular  system,  I  think  very  highly  of  some 
parts  of  their  system,  as  being  sound  and  scientific  — 
metaphysics  of  Quality,  not  less  evident  to  my  reason 
than  the  metaphysics  of  Quantity,  that  is,  Geometry,  etc. ; 
of  the  rest  and  larger  part,  as  tentative,  experimental, 
and  highly  useful  to  a  chemist,  zoologist,  and  physiologist, 
as  unfettering  the  mind,  exciting  its  inventive  powers. 
^  The  Kritik  der  praktischen  Vernunft  was  published  in  1797. 


1817]  TO  J.  H.  GREEN  683 

But  I  must  be  understood  as  confining  these  observations 
to  the  works  of  Schelling  and  H.  Steffens.  Of  Schel- 
ling's  Theology  and  Theanthroposophy,  the  telescopic 
stars  and  nebulae  are  too  many  for  my  "  grasp  of  eye." 
(N.  B.  The  catachresis  is  Dry  den  s,  not  miue.^  In 
short,  I  am  half  inclined  to  believe  that  both  he  and  his 
friend  Francis  Baader  are  but  half  in  earnest,  and  paint 
the  veil  to  hide  not  they^ce  but  the  want  of  one.^  Schel- 
ling  is  too  ambitious,  too  eager  to  be  the  Grand  Seignior 
of  the  allein-selig  Philosophie  to  be  altogether  a  trust- 
worthy philosopher.  But  he  is  a  man  of  great  genius; 
and,  however  unsatisfied  with  his  conclusions,  one  cannot 
read  him  without  being  either  ivhetted  or  improved.  Of 
the  others,  saving  Jacobi,  who  is  a  rhapsodist,  excellent 
in  sentences  all  in  small  capitals,  I  know  either  nothing, 
or  too  little  to  form  a  judgement.  As  my  opinions  were 
formed  before  I  was  acquainted  with  the  schools  of  Fichte 
and  Schelling,  so  do  they  remain  indei^endent  of  them, 
though  I  con-  and  pro-fess  great  obligations  to  them  in 
the  development  of  my  thoughts,  and  yet  seem  to  feel 
that  I  should  have  been  more  useful  had  I  been  left  to 
evolve  them  myself  without  knowledge  of  their  coinci- 
dence. I  do  not  very  much  like  the  SternbakP  of  our 
friend ;  it  is  too  like  an  imitation  of  Heinse's  "  Arding- 
hello,"^  and  if  the  scene  in  the  Painter's  Garden  at  Rome 
is  less  licentious  than  the  correspondent  abomination  in 
the  former  work,  it  is  likewise  duller. 

I  have  but  merely  looked  into  Jean  Paul's  "  Vorschule 
dcr  Aisthetik,"  *  but  I  found  one  sentence  almost  word  for 
word  the  same  as  one  written  by  myself  in  a  fi*agment  of 

^  This  statement  requires   expla-         ^  Lurlwifj    Tieck    published    his 
nation.     Franz  Xavier  von  Baader,     Sternhald' s  Wanderungen  in  1708. 
1765-1841,   was    a    mystic    of    the         ^  Heinse's  Ardlnghello  was   pub- 
school  of  Jacob    P)olune,  and  wrote     lished  in  1787. 

in  opposition  to  Schelling.  *  Richter's  Vorschule  der  Aisthetik 

was  published  in  1804  (3  vols.). 


684  NEW  LIFE  AND   NEW  FRIENDS  [1818 

an  Essay  on  the  Supernatural  ^  many  years  ago,  viz.  that 
the  ^;rc.sc«ce  of  a  ghost  is  the  terror,  not  what  he  does,  a 
principle  which  Southey,  too,  overlooks  in  his  "  Thalaba  " 
and  "  Kehama." 

But  I  must  conclude.     Believe  me,  dear  sir,  with  un- 
feigned regard  and  esteem,  your  obliged 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 


I  expect  my  eldest  son,  Hartley  Coleridge,  to-day  f  n 
Oxford. 


•om 


CCXIX.    TO   CHARLES   AUGUSTUS  TULK.^ 

HiGHGATE,  Thursday  evening,  1818. 

Dear  Sir,  —  As  an  innocent  female  often  blushes  not 
at  any  image  which  had  risen  in  her  own  mind,  but 
from  a  confused  apprehension  of  some  xy  z  that  might  be 
attributed  to  her  by  others,  so  did  I  feel  uncomfortable  at 
the  odd  coincidence  of  my  commending  to  you  the  late 
Swedenborgian  advertisement.  But  when  I  came  home  I 
simply  asked  Mrs.  G.  if  she  remembered  my  having  read 
to  her  such  an  address.     She  instantly  rejDlied  not  only  in 

'  See    Table   Talk  for  January  8  I  possess  transcripts  of  twenty-five 

and  May   1,  1823.      See,   also,    The  letters  from  Coleridge   to  Tulk,  in 

Friend,  Essay  iii.  of  the  First  Land-  many  of  which  he  details  his  theories 

ing  Place.     Coleridge's  Works,  Har-  of  ontological  speculation.     The  ori- 

per  &   Brothers,  1853,  ii.   134-137,  giuals   were  sold   and  dispersed  in 

and  "  Notes  on  Hamlet,"  Ibid.    iv.  1882. 

147-150.  A  note  on  Swedenhorg's  treatise, 

-  Charles  Augustus  Tulk,  de-  "  De  Cultu  et  Amore  Dei,"  is  printed 
.scribed  by  Mr.  Campbell  as  "  a  man  in  Notes  Theological  and  Political, 
of  fortune  with  an  uncommon  taste  London,  1853,  p.  110,  but  a  long 
for  philosophical  speculation,"  was  series  of  marginalia  on  the  pages  of 
an  eminent  Swedenborgian,  and  the  treatise,  "  De  Crelo  et  Inferno," 
mainly  instrumental  in  establishing  of  which  a  transcript  has  been  made, 
the  "New  Church"  in  Great  Brit-  remains  unpublished. 
ain.  It  was  through  Coleridge's  For  Coleridge's  views  on  Sweden- 
intimacy  with  Mr.  Tulk  that  his  borgianism,  see  "Notes  on  Noble's 
writings  became  known  to  the  Swe-  Appeal,"  Literary  Remains  ;  Cole- 
denborgian  community,  and  that  his  ridge's  Works,  Harper  &  Brothers, 
letters  were  read  at  their  gatherings.  1853,  v.  522-527. 


1818]  TO  CHARLES  AUGUSTUS  TULK  685 

the   affirmative,  but  mentioned  the  circumstance  of   my 
having  expressed  a  sort  of  half-inclination,  half-intention 
of  addressing  a  letter   to  the  chairman  mentioning  my 
receipt  of  a  book  of  which  I  highly  approved,  and  re- 
questing him  to  transmit  my  acknowledgments,  if,  as  was 
probable,  the   author  was  known  to  him  or  any  of  the 
gentlemen  with  him.     I  asked  her  then  if  she  had  herself 
read  the  advertisement  ?     "  Yes,  and  I  carried  it  to  Mr.  ; 
Gillman,  saying  how  much  you  had  been  pleased  with  the 
style  and  the  freedom  from  the  sectarian  spirit."     "  And 
do  you  recollect  the  name  of  the  Chairman  ?  "   "  No  !  why, 
bless  me  !  could  it  be  Mr.  Tulk?  "    Very  nearly  the  same 
conversation  took  place  with  Mr.  Gillman  afterwards.     I 
can  readily  account  for  the  fact  in  myself;    for  first  I 
never  recollect  any  persons    by  their  names,  and   have 
fallen   into   some  laughable  perplexities  by  this   specific 
catalepsy  of  memory,  such  as  accepting  an  invitation  in 
the  streets  from  a  face  perfectly  familiar  to  me,  and  being 
afterwards  unable  to  attach  the  name  and  habitat  thereto; 
and  secondly,  that  the  impression  made  by  a  conversation 
that  appeared  to  me  altogether  accidental  and  by  your 
voice  and  person  had  been  completed  before  I  heard  your 
name  ;   and  lastly,  the  more  habitual  tliinking  is  to  any 
one,  the  larger  share  has  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect 
in  producing  recognition.     But  it  is  strange  that  neither 
Mrs.  or  IVIr.  Gillman  should  have  recollected  the  name, 
though  probably  the  accidentality  of  having  made  your 
acquaintance,  and  its  being  at  Little  Hampton,  and  asso- 
ciated with  our  having  at  the  same  time  and  by  a  similar 
accidental  rencontre  become  acquainted  with  the  Eev.  Mr. 
Gary  and  his  family,  overlaid  any  former   relique  of  a 
man's  name  in  Mrs.  G.  as  well  as  myself. 

I  return  you  Blake's   poesies,^  metrical   and    graphic, 

1  It  may  be  supposed  that  it  was  that,  as  an  indirect  consequence,  the 
Blake,  the  mystic  and  the  spiritual-  original  edition  of  his  poems,  "  en- 
ist,  that  aroused  Talk's  interest,  and     graved  in  writing-hand,"  was  sent 


686  NEW  LIFE  AXD  NEW  FRIENDS  [1818 

with  tluinks.  With  this  and  the  book,  I  have  sent  a  rude 
scrawl  as  to  the  order  in  which  I  was  pleased  by  the  sev- 
eral poems. 

With  respectful  compliments  to  ]\Irs.  Tulk,  I  remain, 
dear  sir,  your  obliged 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

Thursdaj'  evening,  Iligligate. 

Blake's  Poems.  —  I  begin  with  my  dyspathies  that  I 
may  forget  them,  and  have  uninterrupted  space  for  loves 
and  sympathies.  Title-page  and  the  following  emblem 
contain  all  the  faidts  of  the  drawings  with  as  few  beauties 
as  could  be  in  the  compositions  of  a  man  who  was  capable 
of  such  faults  and  such  beauties.  The  faulty  despotism 
in  symbols  amounting  in  the  title-page  to  the  fito-rjTov,  and 
occasionally,  irregular  unmodified  lines  of  the  inanimate, 
sometimes  as  the  effect  of  rigidity  and  sometimes  of  exos- 
sation  like  a  wet  tendon.  So  likewise  the  ambiguity  of 
the  drapery.  Is  it  a  garment  or  the  body  incised  and 
scored  out  ?  The  lumpness  (the  effect  of  vinegar  on  an 
egg)  in  the  upper  one  of  the  two  prostrate  figures  in  the 
title-page,  and  the  straight  line  down  the  waistcoat  of 
pinky  goldbeaters'  skin  in  the  next  drawing,  with  the  I 
don't-know-whatness  of  the  countenance,  as  if  the  mouth 

to  Coleridge  for  his  inspection  and  for  in  1812  Crabb  Robinson,  so  he 
criticism.  The  Songs  of  Innocence  tells  us,  read  them  aloud  to  Words- 
were  published  in  1787,  ten  years  "worth,  who  was  "  pleased  with  some 
before  the  Lyrical  Ballads  appeared,  of  them,  and  considered  Blake  as 
and  more  than  thirty  years  before  having  the  elements  of  poetry,  a 
the  date  of  this  letter,  but  they  were  thousand  times  more  than  either 
known  only  to  a  few.  Lamb,  writ-  Byron  or  Scott."  None,  however, 
ing  in  1824,  speaks  of  him  as  Robert  of  these  hearty  and  genuine  admir- 
Blake,  and  after  praising  in  the  ers  appear  to  have  reflected  that 
highest  terms  his  paintings  and  en-  Blake  had  "  gone  back  to  nature,"  a 
gravings,  says  that  he  has  never  while  before  Wordsworth  or  Cole- 
read  his  poems,  "  which  have  been  ridge  turned  their  steps  in  that  di- 
sold  hitherto  only  in  manuscrijit."  rection.  Letters  of  Charles  Lamb, 
It  is  strange  that  Coleridge  should  1886,  ii.  104,  105,  324,  325 ;  H.  C. 
not  have  been  familiar  with  them,  Robinson's  Diary,  i,  385. 


1818]  TO   CHARLES  AUGUSTUS   TULK  G87 

had  been  formed  by  the  habit  of  placing  the  tongue  not 
contemptuously,  but  stupidly,  between  the  lower  gums  and 
the  lower  jaw  —  these  are  the  only  repulsive  faults  I 
have  noticed.  The  figure,  however,  of  the  second  leaf, 
abstracted  from  the  expression  of  the  countenance  given 
it  by  something  about  the  mouth,  and  the  interspace  from 
the  lower  lip  to  the  chin,  is  such  as  only  a  master  learned 
in  his  art  could  produce. 

JV.  B.  I  signifies  "It  gave  me  great  pleasure."  i, 
"Still  greater."  II,  "And  greater  still."  0,  "In  the 
highest  degree."     O,  "  In  the  lowest." 

Shepherd,  I ;  Spring,  I  (last  stanza,  I)  ;  Holy  Thurs- 
day, II ;  Laughing  Song,  I ;  Nurse's  Song,  I ;  The  Di- 
vine Image,  0 ;  The  Lamb,  I ;  The  little  black  Boy,  0, 
yea  ©-{-0;  Infant  Joy,  II  (N.  B.  For  the  three  last 
lines  I  should  write,  "When  wilt  thou  smile,"  or  "O  smile, 
O  smile  !  I  '11  sing  the  wdiile."  For  a  babe  two  days  old 
does  not,  cannot  smile,  and  innocence  and  the  very  truth 
of  Nature  must  go  together.  Infancy  is  too  holy  a  thing 
to  be  ornamented).  "  The  Echoing  Green,"  I,  (the  fig- 
ures I,  and  of  the  second  leaf,  11)  ;  "  The  Cradle  Song," 
I;  "The  School  Boj^"  II;  Night, 0;  "On  another's  Sor- 
row," I ;  "  A  Dream,"  ? ;  "  The  little  boy  lost,"  I  (the 
drawing,  I)  ;  "  The  little  boy  found,"  I ;  "The  Blossom," 
O  ;  "  The  Chimney  Sweeper,"  O ;  "  The  Voice  of  the 
Ancient  Bard,"  O. 

Introduction,  I ;  Earth's  Answer,  I ;  Infant  Sorrow, 
I ;  "  The  Clod  and  the  Pebble,"  I ;  "  The  Garden  of 
Love,"  I ;  "  The  Fly,"  I ;  "  The  Tyger,"  I ;  "A  little 
boy  lost,"  I ;  "  Holy  Thursday,"  I ;  [p.  13,  O  ;  "  Nurse's 
Song,"  O?]  ;  "The  little  girl  lost  and  found"  (the  orna- 
ments most  exquisite !  the  poem,  I)  ;  "  Chimney  Sweeper 
in  the  Snow,"  O;  "To  Tirzah,  and  the  Poison  Tree,"  I  — 
and  yet  O;  "A  little  Girl  lost,"  O.  (I  would  have  had 
it  omitted,  not  for  the  want  of  innocence  in  the  poem,  but 
from   the   too   probable  want   of    it   in   many  readers.) 


688  NEW  LIFE  AND  NEW  FRIENDS  [May 

"  London,"  I :  "  The  Sick  Rose,"'  I ;  "  The  little  Vaga- 
bond," O.  Tliougli  I  cannot  approve  altogether  of  this 
last  poem,  and  have  been  inclined  to  think  that  the  en-or 
which  is  most  likely  to  beset  the  scholars  of  P^manuel 
Swedeuborg  is  that  of  utterly  demerging  the  tremendous 
incompatibilities  with  an  evil  will  that  arise  out  of  the 
essential  Holiness  of  the  abysmal  A-seity  ^  in  the  love  of  the 
Eternal  T'ersoii,  and  thus  giving  temptation  to  weak  minds 
to  sink  this  love  itself  into  Good  jVature,  yet  still  I  dis- 
approve the  mood  of  mind  in  this  wild  poem  so  nnich  less 
than  I  do  the  servile  blind-worm,  wrap-rascal  scurf-coat 
of  J'ear  of  the  modern  Saint  (whose  whole  being  is  a  lie, 
to  themselves  as  well  as  to  their  brethren),  that  I  should 
laugh  with  good  conscience  in  watching  a  Saint  of  the  new 
stamp,  one  of  the  first  stars  of  our  eleemosynary  adver- 
tisements, groaning  in  wind-pipe  !  and  with  the  whites  of 
his  eyes  upraised  at  the  audacity  of  this  poem !  Any- 
thing rather  than  this  degradation  I  of  Humanity,  and 
therein  of  the  Incarnate  Divinity ! 

o.    JL.   \j. 

O  means  that  I  am  perplexed  and  have  no  opinion. 
I,  with  which  how  can  we  utter  "Our  Father"? 

CCXX.     TO   J.   H.    GREEN. 

Spring-  Garden  Coffee  House,  [May  2,  1818.] 

My  dear  Sir,  —  Having  been  detained  here  till  the 
present  hour,  and  under  requisition  for  Monday  morning 
early,  I  have  decided  on  not  returning  to  Ilighgate  in  the 
interim.    I  propose,  therefore,  to  have  the  pleasure  of  pass- 

^  In  the  Aids  to  Reflection,  at  the  the  df\ri/xa  and   the  &ovXi\,  that    is, 

close  of  a  long  comment  on  a  pas-  the  Absohite  AVill  as  the  universal 

sage  in  Field,  Coleridge  alludes  to  ground  of  all  being,  and  the  election 

"  discussions  of  the  Greek  Fathers,  and    purpose    of    God  in  the    per- 

and  of  the  Schoolmen  on  the  obscure  sonal  Idea,  as  Father."     Coleridge's 

and  abjsmal  subject  of  the  divine  Works,  18.53,  i.  317. 
A-aeity,  and  the  distinction  between 


1818]  TO  J.   H.   GREEN  689 

ing  the  fore-dinner  liours,  from  eleven  o'clock  to-morrow 
morning,  with  you  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Square,  unless  I 
should  hear  from  you  to  the  contrary. 

The  Cotton-children  Bill  ^  (an  odd  irony  to  children  hred 
up  in  cotton  /)  which  has  passed  the  House  of  Commons, 
would  not,  I  suspect,  have  been  discussed  at  all  in  the 
House  of  Lords,  but  have  been  quietly  assented  to,  had  it 
not  afforded  that  Scotch  coxcomb,  the  plebeian  Earl  of 
Lauderdale,^  too  tempting  an  occasion  for  displaying  his 
muddy  three  inch  depths  in  the  gutter  (?  Guttur)  of  his 
Political  Economy.  Whether  some  half-score  of  rich 
capitalists  are  to  be  prevented  from  suborning  suicide  and 
perpetuating  infanticide  and  soul-murder  is,  forsooth,  the 
most  perplexing  question  which  has  ever  called  forth  his 
determining  faculties,  accustomed  as  they  are  loell  known 
to  have  been,  to  grappling  with  difficulties.  In  short,  he 
wants  to  make  a  speech  almost  as  much  as  I  do  to  have  a 
release  signed  by  conscience  from  the  duty  of  making  or 
anticipating  answers  to  such  speeches. 

1  The  bill  in  whick  Coleridge  in-  prohibit  soul-ranrder  on  the  part  of 
terested  himself,  and  in  favour  of  the  rich,  and  self-slaughter  on  that 
which  he  wrote  two  circulars  which  of  the  poor!),  or  any  dictum  of  our 
were  printed  and  distributed,  was  grave  law  authoi'ities  from  Fortescue 
introduced  in  the  House  of  Com-  —  to  Eldon  :  for  from  the  borough 
inons  by  the  first  Sir  Robert  Peel,  of  Hell  I  wish  to  have  no  represen- 
Tlie  object  of  the  bill  was  to  regu-  tatives."  Henry  Crabb  Robinson's 
late  the  employment  of  children  in  Diary,  ii.  93-95. 
cotton  factories.  A  bill  for  prohib-  ^  James  Maitland,  1750-1839, 
iting  the  employment  of  children  eighth  Earl  of  Lauderdale,  belonged 
under  nine  was  passed  in  1S33,  but  to  the  party  of  Charles  James  Fox, 
it  was  not  till  1844  that  the  late  and,  like  Coleridge,  opposed  the  first 
Lord  Shaftesbury,  then  Lord  Ash-  war  with  France,  which  began  in 
ley,  succeeded  in  passing  the  Ten  1793.  In  the  ministry  of  "  All  the 
Hours  Bills.  In  a  letter  of  May  od  Talents  "  he  held  the  Great  Seal  of 
to  Crabb  Robinson,  Coleridge  asks :  Scotland.  Coleridge  calls  him  ple- 
"Can  you  furnish  us  with  any  other  beian  because  he  inherited  the  peer- 
instances  in  which  the  legislature  has  age  from  a  remote  connection.  He 
interfered  with  what  is  ironically  was  the  author  of  several  treatises  on 
called  '  Free  Labour'  {i.  e.  dared  to  finance  and  political  economy. 


G90  NEW  LIFE  AND  NEW  FRIENDS  [July 

O  when  the  heart  is  deaf  and  l)lin(l,  how  hlear 
The  lynx's  eye  !   how  dull  the  niould-\vai'j)'s  ear ! 

Verily  the  Worhl  is  mighty!  and  for  all  but  the  few 
the  orb  of  Truth  labours  under  eclipse  from  the  shadow 
of  the  world ! 

With  kind  respects  to  Mrs.  Green,  believe  me,  my  dear 
sir,  with  sincere  and  affectionate  esteem, 

Yours,  S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CCXXI.     TO    MRS.    GILLMAN. 

J.  Green's,  Esq.,  St.  Lawrence,  nr.  Maldon, 
Wednesday,  July  19,  1818. 

My  VERY  DEAR  SiSTER  AND  Friend, — The  distance 
from  the  post  and  the  extraordinary  thinness  of  popula- 
tion in  this  district  (especially  of  men  and  women  of  let- 
ters) which  affords  only  two  days  in  the  seven  for  sending 
to  or  receiving  from  Maldon,  are  the  sole  causes  of  your  not 
hearing  oftener  from  me.  The  cross  roads  from  Margret- 
ting  Street  to  the  very  house  are  excellent,  and  through  the 
first  gate  we  drove  up  between  two  large  gardens,  that  on 
the  right  a  flower  and  fruit  garden  not  without  kitclienery, 
and  that  on  the  left,  a  kitchen  garden  not  without  fruits 
and  flowers,  and  both  in  a  perfect  blaze  of  roses.  Yet  so 
capricious  is  our,  at  least  my,  nature,  that  I  feel  I  do  not 
receive  the  fifth  part  of  the  delight  from  this  miscellany 
of  Flora,  flowers  at  every  step,  as  from  the  economized 
glasses  and  flower-pots  at  Highgate  so  tended  and  wor- 
shipped by  me,  and  each  the  gift  of  some  kind  friend  or 
courteous  neighbour.  I  actually  make  up  a  flower-pot 
every  night,  in  oi-der  to  imitate  my  Highgate  pleasures. 
The  country  road  is  very  beautiful.  About  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  from  the  garden,  all  the  way  through  beautiful  fields 
in  blossom,  we  come  to  a  wood,  full  of  birds  and  not  un- 
charmed  by  the  nightingales,  and  which  the  old  workman, 
to  please  his  mistress,  has  romanticised  with,  I  dare  say, 
fifty  seats  and  honeysuckle  bowers  and  green  arches  made 


1818]  TO   MRS.   GILLMAN  691 

by  twisting  the  branches  of  the  trees  across  the  paths. 
The  view  from  the  hilly  field  above  the  wood  command- 
ing the  arm  of  the  sea,  and  ending  in  the  open  sea,  re- 
minded me  very  much  of  the  prospects  from  Stowey  and 
Alfoxden,  in  Somersetshire.  The  cottagers  seem  to  be 
and  are  in  possession  of  plenty  of  comfort.  Poverty  I 
have  seen  no  marks  of,  nor  of  the  least  servility,  though 
they  are  courteous  and  respectfid.  We  have  abundance 
of  cream.  The  Farm  must,  I  should  think,  be  a  valuable 
estate ;  and  the  parents  are  anxious  to  leave  it  as  complete 
as  possible  for  Joseph,  their  only  child  (for  it  is  Mrs.  J. 
Green's  sisters  that  we  have  seen  —  G.  himself  has  no 
sister).  There  is  no  society  hereabouts.  I  like  it  the 
better  there/b^'e.  The  clergyman,  a  young  man,  is  lost  in 
a  gloomy  vulgar  Calvinism,  will  read  no  book  but  the 
Bible,  converse  on  nothing  but  the  state  of  the  soul,  or 
rather  he  will  not  converse  at  all,  but  visit  each  house 
once  in  two  months,  when  he  prays  and  admonishes,  and 
gives  a  lecture  every  evening  at  his  own  rooms.  On  be- 
ing invited  to  dine  with  us,  the  sad  and  modest  youth 
returned  for  answer,  that  if  Mr.  Green  and  I  should  be 
here  when  he  visited  the  house,  he  shoidd  have  no  objec- 
tion to  enter  into  the  state  of  our  souls  with  us,  and  if  in 
the  mean  time  we  desired  any  instruction  from  him,  we 
might  attend  at  his  daily  evening  lecture !  Election,  Rep- 
robation, Children  of  the  Devil,  and  all  such  flowers  of 
rhetoric,  and  flour  of  brimstone,  form  his  discourses  both 
in  church  and  parlour.  But  my  folly  in  not  filling  the 
snuff  canister  is  a  subject  of  far  more  serious  and  awful 
I'egret  with  me,  than  the  not  being  in  the  way  of  being 
thus  led  by  the  nose  of  this  Pseudo-Evangelist.  Nothing 
but  Scotch ;  and  that  five  miles  off.  O  Anne !  it  was 
cruel  in  you  not  to  have  calculated  the  monstrous  dispro- 
portion between  the  huge  necessities  of  my  nostrils,  or 
rather  of  my  thumb  and  forefinger,  and  that  vile  little 
vial  three  fourths  empty  of  snuff !    The  flat  of  my  thumb, 


692  NEW   LIFE   AND   NEW  FRIENDS  [Dec. 

yea,   the   nail   of  my  forefinger   is  not  only  clean ;  it  is 
white  !  white  as  the  })ale  Hag  of  famine  !  ^ 

Now  for  my  health.  .  .  .  Ludicrous  as  it  may  seem, 
yet  it  is  no  joke  for  me,  that  from  the  marshiness  of  these 
sea  marshes,  and  the  number  of  unnecessary  fish  ponds 
and  other  stagnancies  iunnediately  around  the  house,  the 
gnats  are  a  very  plague  of  Egypt,  and  suspicious,  with 
good  reason,  of  an  erysipelatous  tendency,  I  am  anxious 
concerning  the  effects  of  the  irritation  produced  by  these 
canorous  visitants.  While  awake  (and  two  tliirds  of  last 
night  I  was  kept  awake  by  their  bites  and  trumpetings)  I 
can  so  far  command  myself  as  to  check  the  intolerable 
itching  by  a  weak  mixture  of  goulard  and  rosewater  ;  but 
in  my  sleep  I  scratch  myself  as  if  old  Scratch  had  lent 
me  his  best  set  of  claws.  This  is  the  only  drawback  from 
my  comforts  here,  for  nothing  can  be  kinder  or  more 
cordial  than  my  treatment.  I  like  Mrs.  J.  Green  better  and 
better ;  but  feel  that  in  twenty  years  it  would  never  be 
above  or  beyond  liking.  She  is  good-natured,  lively,  in- 
nocent, but  without  a  soothingness,  or  something  I  do  not 
know  what  that  is  tender.  As  to  my  return,  I  do  not 
think  it  will  be  possible,  without  great  unkindness,  to  be 
with  you  before  Tuesday  evening  or  Wednesday,  calculat- 
ing icholly  by  the  progress  of  the  manuscript ;  and  we 
have  been  hard  at  it.  Do  not  take  it  as  words,  of  course, 
when  I  say  and  solemnly  assure  you,  that  if  I  followed 
my  own  ivishes,  I  should  leave  this  place  on  Saturday 
morning :  for  I  feel  more  and  more  that  I  can  be  well  off 
nowhere  away  from  you  and  Gillman.  May  God  bless 
him  !  For  a  dear  friend  he  is  and  has  been  to  be.  Re- 
member me    affectionately  to    the  Milnes  and    Betsy,  if 

1  It  -was,  I  have  been  told  by  an  cess  that  the  maid  servant  had  di- 

eyewitness,  Coleridge's  habit  to  take  rections  to  sweep  up  these  literary 

a  pinch  of  snuff,  and  whilst  he  was  remains   and   replace    them   in   the 

t.'ilking  to  rub  it  between  his  fingers,  canister. 
He  wasted  so  much  snuff  in  the  pro- 


1818]  TO   W.   COLLINS  693 

they  are  at  Higligate.  Love  to  James.  Kisses  for  the 
Fish  of  Five  Waters,^  none  of  which  are  stagnant,  and  I 
hope  that  Mary,  Dinah,  and  Lucy  are  well,  and  that  Mary 
is  quite  recovered.  Again  and  again  and  again,  God  bless 
you,  my  most  dear  friends ;  for  I  am,  and  ever  trust  to 
remain,  more  than  can  be  expressed,  my  dear  Anne !  your 
affectionate,  obliged,  and  grateful 

So  T.  Coleridge. 

P.  S.     Not  to  put  Essex  after  Maldon. 

CCXXII.    TO   W.    COLLINS,    ESQ.,   A.  E.  A. 

HiGHGATE,  December,  1818. 

My  dear  Sir,  —  I  at  once  comply  with,  and  thank 
you  for,  your  request  to  have  some  prospectvises.  God 
knows  I  have  so  few  friends,  that  it  would  be  unpardon- 
able in  me  not  to  feel  proportionably  grateful  towards 
those  few  who  think  the  time  not  wasted  in  which  they 
interest  themselves  in  my  behalf.  There  is  an  old  Latin 
adage.  Vis  videri  paiiper,  et  j)ciuj)er  es  !  Poor  3'ou  jjro- 
fess  yourself  to  be,  and  poor  therefore  you  are,  and  will 
remain.  The  prosperous  feel  only  with  the  prosperous, 
and  if  you  subtract  from  the  whole  sum  of  their  feeling 
for  all  the  gratifications  of  vanity,  and  all  their  calcula- 
tions of  lending  to  the  Lord.,  both  of  which  are  best 
answered  by  confessing  the  supei-fluity  of  their  superflui- 
ties on  advertised  and  advertisable  distress,  or  on  such 
cases  as  are  known  to  be  in  all  respects  their  inferior,  you 
will  have,  I  fear,  but  a  scanty  remainder.  All  this  is  too 
true  ;  but  then,  what  is  that  man  to  do  whom  no  distress 
can  bribe  to  swindle  or  deceive?  who  cannot  reply  as 
Theophilus  Gibber  did  to  his  father,  Colley  Gibber,  who, 
seeing  him  in  a  rich  suit  of  clothes  whispered  to  him  as 
he  passed,  "  The  !  The  !  I  pity  thee !  "  "  Pity  me !  pity 
my  tailor!" 

^  A  pet  name  for  the  Gillmans'  younger  son,  Henry. 


694  NEW  LIFE  AND  NEW  FRIENDS  [Dec. 

Spite  of  the  decided  approbation  wliieli  my  plan  of 
delivering  lectures  has  received  from  several  judicious 
and  highly  respectable  individuals,  it  is  still  too  histrionic, 
too  much  like  a  retail  dealer  in  instruction  and  pastime, 
not  to  be  depressing.  If  the  duty  of  living  were  not  far 
more  awful  to  my  conscience  than  life  itself  is  agreeable 
to  my  feelings,  I  shoidd  sink  under  it.  But,  getting 
nothing  by  my  i)ublications,  which  I  have  not  the  power 
of  making  estimable  by  the  public  without  loss  of  self- 
estimation,  what  can  1  do  ?  The  few  who  have  won  the 
present  age,  while  tliey  have  secured  the  praise  of  pos- 
terity, as  Sir  Walter  Scott,  Mr.  Southey,  Lord  Byron, 
etc.,  have  been  in  happier  circumstances.  And  lecturing 
is  the  only  means  by  which  I  can  enable  myself  to  go  on 
at  all  with  the  great  pliilosopliical  work  to  whicli  the  best 
and  most  genial  hours  of  the  last  twenty  years  of  my  life 
have  been  devoted.  Poetry  is  out  of  the  question.  The 
attempt  would  only  hurry  me  into  that  sphere  of  acute 
feelings  from  which  abstruse  research,  the  mother  of  self- 
oblivion,  i)resents  an  asylum.  Yet  sometimes,  spite  of 
myself,  I  cannot  help  bursting  out  into  the  affecting  ex- 
clamation of  our  Spenser  (his  "wine  "  and  "  ivy  garland" 
inter^Dreted  as  competence  and  joyous  circumstances}  :  — 

"  Thou  kenn'st  not,  Percy,  how  the  rhyme  should  cage ! 

Oh,  if  my  temples  were  bedewed  with  wine, 

And  girt  with  g-arlands  of  wild  ivy-twine. 
How  I  eoiild  rear  the  Muse  on  stately  stage ! 

And  teach  her  tread  aloft  in  buskin  fine, 
With  queen' d  Bellona  in  her  equipage  ! 

But  ah,  my  courage  cools  ere  it  be  warm !  "  ^ 

But  God's  w^ill  be  done.  To  feel  the  full  force  of  the 
Christian  religion  it  is,  perhaps,  necessary  for  many 
tempers  that  they  should  first  be  made  to  feel,  experimen- 
tally, the  liollowness  of  human  friendship,  the  presump- 
tuous emptiness  of  human  hopes.  I  find  more  substantial 
comfort  now  in  pious  George  Herbert's  "  Temple,"  which 

^  Coleridge  was  fond  of  quoting  these  lines  as  applicable  to  himself. 


1818J  TO  THOMAS  ALLSOP  G95 

I  used  to  read  to  amuse  myself  with  his  quaiutness,  in 
short,  only  to  laugh  at,  than  in  all  the  poetry  since  the 
poems  of  Milton.  If  you  have  not  read  Herbert,  I  can 
recommend  the  book  to  you  confidently.  The  poem  enti- 
tled "  The  Flower "  is  especially  affecting  ;  and,  to  me, 
such  a  phrase  as  "  and  relish  versing  "  ex2)resses  a  sin- 
cerity, a  reality,  which  I  woidd  unwillingly  exchange  for 
the  more  dignified  "  and  once  more  love  the  Muse,"  etc. 
And  so,  with  many  other  of  Herbert's  homely  phrases. 

We  are  all  anxious  to  hear  from,  and  of,  our  excellent 
transatlantic  friend.^  I  need  not  repeat  that  your  com- 
pany, with  or  without  our  friend  Leslie,^  will  gratify 

Your  sincere 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CCXXIII.     TO   THOMAS   ALLSOP. 

The  origin  of  Coleridge's  friendship  with  Thomas  All- 
sop,  a  young  city  merchant,  dates  from  the  first  lecture 
wliich  he  delivered  at  Flower  de  Luce  Court,  January  27, 
1818.  A  letter  from  Allsop  containing  a  "  judicious  sug- 
gestion "  with  regard  to  the  subject  advertised,  "  The  Dark 
Ages  of  Europe,"  was  handed  to  the  lecturer,  who  could 
not  avail  himself  of  the  hint  on  this  occasion,  but  promised 
to  do  so  before  the  close  of  the  series.  Personal  inter- 
course does  not  seem  to  have  taken  place  till  a  year  later, 
but  from  1819  to  1826  Coleridge  and  Allsop  were  close 
and  intimate  friends.  In  1825  the  correspondence  seems 
to  have  dropped,  but  I  am  not  aware  that  then  or  after- 
wards there  was  any  breach  of  friendship.     In  183G  Allsop 

^  Washington  Allston.  croft,  R.  A.,  after  a  careful  inspec- 
2  Charles  Robert  Leslie,  historical  tion  of  other  portraits  and  eng-rav- 
painter,  1794-1859,  was  born  of  ings  of  S.  T.  Coleridg-e,  modelled 
American  parents,  bnt  studied  art  the  bust  which  now  (thanks  to 
in  London  under  Wiushiiigton  All-  American  generosity)  finds  its  place 
ston.  A  pencil  sketch,  for  which  in  Poets'  Corner,  mainly  in  accord- 
Coleridge  sat  to  him  in  1820,  is  in  ance  with  this  sketch, 
my  possession.     Mr.  Ilamo  Tliorny- 


G96  NEW  LIFE  AND  NEW  FRIENDS  [Dec. 

publislied  the  letters  whicli  lie  had  received  from  Coleridge. 
Partly  on  account  of  the  personal  allusions  which  some  of 
the  letters  contain,  and  partly  because  it  would  seem  that 
Coleridge  expressed  himself  to  his  young  disciple  with 
some  freedom  on  matters  of  religious  oi)iniou,  the  pul)lica- 
tiou  of  these  letters  was  regarded  by  Coleridge's  friends  as 
an  act  of  mala  fides.  Allsop  was  kindness  itself  to  Cole- 
ridge, but,  no  doubt,  the  allusions  to  friends  and  children, 
which  were  of  a  painful  and  priv^ate  nature,  ought,  during 
their  lifetime  at  least,  to  have  been  omitted.  The  origi- 
nals of  many  of  these  letters  were  presented  by  the  All- 
sop  family  to  the  late  P]mperor  of  Brazil,  an  enthusiastic 
student  and  admirer  of  Coleridge.^ 

December  2,  1818. 

My  dear  Sir,  —  I  cannot  express  how  kind  I  felt 
your  letter.  Would  to  Heaven  I  had  had  many  with 
feelings  like  yours,  "accustomed  to  exjDress  themselves 
warmly  and  (as  far  as  the  word  is  applicable  to  5^ou, 
even)  enthusiastically."  But,  alas !  during  the  prime 
manhood  of  my  intellect  I  had  nothing  but  cold  water 
thrown  on  my  efforts.  I  speak  not  now  of  my  systematic 
and  most  unprovoked  maligners.  On  them  I  have  re- 
torted oidy  by  pit}*  and  by  prayer.  These  may  have,  and 
doubtless  have^  joined  with  the  frivolity  of  "  the  reading 
public  "  in  checking  and  almost  in  preventing  the  sale  of 
my  works ;  and  so  far  have  done  injury  to  my  j^urse. 
Me  they  have  not  injured.  But  I  have  loved  with  enthu- 
siastic self-oblivion  those  who  have  been  so  well  pleased 
that  I  should,  year  after  year,  flow  with  a  hundred  name- 
less rills  into  thew  main  stream,  that  they  could  find 
nothing  but  cold  praise  and  effective  discouragement  of 
every  attempt  of  mine  to  roll  onward  in  a  distinct  cui'rent 
of  my  own;  who  (idmitted  that  the  "Ancient  Mariner," 
the  "  Christabel,"  the  "  Kemorse,"  and  some  pages  of  "  The 

'  Letters,  Conversations,  and  Recollections  of  S.   T.   Coleridge,   London, 
1836,  i.  1-3. 


\Mf^^4^iA^ 


1818]  TO   THOMAS  ALLSOP  697 

Friend  "  were  not  without  merit,  but  were  abundantly 
anxious  to  acquit  their  judgements  of  any  blindness  to  the 
very  numerous  defects.  Yet  they  kneiv  that  to  praise, 
as  mere  praise,  I  was  characteristically,  almost  constitu- 
tionally, indifferent.  In  sympathy  alone  I  found  at  once 
nourishment  and  stimulus ;  and  for  symj^athy  alone  did 
my  heart  crave.  They  knew,  too,  how  long  and  faithfully 
I  had  acted  on  the  maxim,  never  to  admit  the  faidts  of  a 
work  of  genius  to  those  who  denied  or  were  incapable  of 
feeling  and  understanding  the  beauties  ;  not  from  wilful 
partiality,  but  as  well  knowing  that  in  saying  truth  I 
should,  to  such  critics,  convey  falsehood.  If,  in  one  in- 
stance, in  my  literary  life,  I  have  appeared  to  deviate 
from  this  rvde,  first,  it  was  not  till  the  fame  of  the  writer 
(which  I  had  been  for  fourteen  years  successively  toiling 
like  a  second  Ali  to  build  up)  had  been  established ;  and, 
secondly  and  chiefly,  with  the  pm^pose  and,  I  maj^  safely 
add,  with  the  effect  of  rescuing  the  necessary  task  from 
malignant  defamers,  and  in  order  to  set  forth  the  excel- 
lences and  the  trifling  proportion  which  the  defects  bore 
to  the  excellences.  But  this,  my  dear  sir,  is  a  mistake  to 
which  affectionate  natures  are  liable,  though  I  do  not 
remember  to  have  ever  seen  it  noticed,  the  mistaking 
those  who  are  desirous  and  well-pleased  to  be  loved  hy 
you,  for  those  who  love  you.  Add,  as  a  mere  general 
cause,  the  fact  that  I  neither  am  nor  ever  have  been  of 
any  jjarty.  What  wonder,  then,  if  I  am  left  to  decide 
which  has  been  my  worse  enemy,  —  the  broad,  pre-deter- 
mined  abuse  of  the  "  Edinburgh  Review,"  etc.,  or  the  cold 
and  brief  compliments,  Avith  the  warm  regrets  of  the 
"  Quarterly  "  ?  After  all,  however,  I  have  now  but  one 
sorrow  relative  to  the  ill  success  of  my  literary  toils  (and 
toils  they  have  been,  thottgh  not  imdelightful  toih^,  and 
this  arises  wholly  from  the  almost  insurmountable  dififi- 
cidties  which  the  anxieties  of  to-day  oppose  to  my  com- 
pletion of   the  great  work,   the    form   and   materials  of 


G98  NEW  LIFE  AND  NEW  FRIENDS  [Jan. 

which  it  has  been  the  employment  of  the  best  and  most 
genial  hours  of  the  last  twenty  years  to  mature  and 
collect. 

If  I  could  but  have  a  tolerably  numerous  audience  to 
my  first,  or  first  and  second  Lectures  on  the  History  of 
Philosophy/  I  should  entertain  a  strong  hope  of  success, 
because  1  know  that  these  lectures  will  be  found  by  far 
the  most  interesting  and  entertaining  of  any  that  I  have 
yet  delivered,  independent  of  the  more  permanent  inter- 
ests of  rememberable  instruction.  Few  and  unimportant 
would  the  errors  of  men  be,  if  they  did  but  know,  first, 
what  they  themselves  meant;  and,  secondly,  what  the 
words  mean  by  which  they  attempt  to  convey  their  mean- 
ing ;  and  I  can  conceive  no  subject  so  well  fitted  to  exem- 
plify the  mode  and  the  importance  of  these  two  points  as 
the  History  of  Philosophy,  treated  as  in  the  scheme  of 
these  lectures.  Trusting  that  I  shall  shortly  have  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  you  here, 

I  remain,  my  dear  sir,  yours  most  sincerely, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 


^  The  Prospectus  of  the  Lectures  and  Gentleman,  Three  Guineas.  Sin- 
on  the  History  of  Philosophy  was  gle  Tickets,  Two  Guineas.  Ad- 
printed  in  AUsop's  Letters,  etc.,  as  mission  to  a  Single  Lecture,  Five 
Letter  xliv.,  November  26,  1818,  but  Shillings.  An  Historical  and  Chron- 
the  announcement  of  the  time  and  ological  Guide  to  the  course  will 
place  has   been   omitted.      A   very  be  printed." 

rare  copy  of  the  origmal  prospectus,         A  reporter  was  hired  at  the  ex- 

which  has  been  placed  in  my  hands  pense  of  Hookham   Frere  to  take 

byMrs.  Henry  Watson,  gives  the  fol-  down  the  lectures  in  shorthand.     A 

lowing  details  :  —  transcript,  which  I  possess,  contains 

"  This    course  will  be  comprised  numerous  errors  and  omissions,  but  is 

in  Fourteen  Lectures,  to  commence  interesting  as  affording  proof  of  the 

on  Monday  evening,    December  7,  conversational  style  of    Coleridge's 

1818,  at  eight  o'clock,  at  the  Crown  lectures.     See,  for  further  account 

and  Anchor,  Strand ;  and  be  contin-  of   Lectures  of  1819,  Samuel  Tay- 

ued  on  the  following  Mondays,  with  lor    Coleridge,    a    Narrative,   by   J. 

the  intermission  of  Christmas  week  Dykes  Campbell,  pp.  238,  239. 
—  Double  Tickets,  admitting  a  Lady 


1819]  TO  J.  H.  GREEN  699 


CCXXIV.    TO   J.    H.    GREEN. 

[Postmark,  January  16,  1819.] 

My  deae  Green,  —  I  forgot  both  at  the  Lecture 
Koom  and  at  Mr.  Phillips's  to  beg  you  to  leave  out  for  me 
Goethe's  "  Zur  Farbenlehre."  It  is  for  a  passage  in  the 
preface  in  which  he  compares  Plato  with  Aristotle,  etc., 
as  far  as  I  recollect,  in  a  spirited  manner.  The  books 
are  at  your  service  again,  after  the  lecture.  Either  Mr. 
Gary  or  some  messenger  will  call  for  them  to-morrow !  I 
piously  resolve  on  Tuesday  to  put  my  books  in  some 
order,  but  at  all  events  to  select  yours  and  send  all  of 
them  that  I  do  not  want  (and  I  do  not  recollect  any  that  I 
do,  unless  perhaps  the  little  volume  edited  by  Tieck  of  his 
friend's  composition),  back  to  you.  I  am  more  and  more 
delighted  with  Chantrey.  The  little  of  his  conversation 
which  I  enjoyed  ex  ^>e(Ze  Herculem^  left  me  no  doubt  of 
the  power  of  his  insight.  Light,  manlihood,  simplicity, 
wholeness.  These  are  the  entelechy  of  Phidian  Genius ; 
and  who  but  must  see  these  in  Chantrey 's  solar  face,  and 
in  all  his  manners  ?  Item  :  I  am  bewitched  with  your 
wife's  portrait.  So  very  like  and  yet  so  ideal  a  portrait  I 
never  remember  to  have  seen.  But  as  Mr.  Phillips  ^ 
said  :  "  Why,  sir !  she  was  a  sweet  subject,  sir !  That 's 
a  great  thing." 

As  to  my  own,  I  can  form  no  judgment.  In  its  present 
state,  the  eyes  appear  too  large,  too  globose,  and  their 
colour  must  be  made  lighter,  and  I  thought  that  the  face, 

1  Thomas  Phillips,  R.  A.,  1770-  Justice  used  to  say  that  the  Salston 
1845,  painted  two  portraits  of  Cole-  picture  was  "  the  best  presentation 
ridge,  one  of  which  is  in  the  posses-  of  the  outward  man."  No  doubt 
sion  of  Mr.  John  Murray,  and  was  it  recalled  his  great-uncle  as  he  re- 
engraved  as  the  frontispiece  of  the  membered  him.  It  certainly  bears 
first  volume  of  the  Table  Talk ;  a  close  resemblance  to  the  portraits 
and  the  other  in  that  of  Mr.  William  of  Coleridge's  brothers,  Edward  and 
Rennell  Coleridge,  of  Salston,  Ottery  George,  and  of  other  members  of  the 
St.    Mary.      The   late    Lord    Chief  family. 


700  NEW  LIFE  AND   NEW  FRIENDS  [Oct. 

exclusive  of  the  forehead,  was  stronger,  more  energetic 
than  mine  seems  to  be  when  I  catch  it  in  the  glass,  and 
therefore  the  forehead  and  brow  less  so  —  not  in  them- 
selves, but  in  consequence  of  the  proportion.  But  of 
course  I  can  form  no  notion  of  what  my  face  and  look 
may  be  when  I  am  animated  in  friendly  conversation. 
My  kind  and  respectful  remembrances  to  j^our  Mother, 
and  believe  me,  most  affectionately. 

Your  obliged  friend, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CCXXV.    TO   JAMES   GILLMAN. 

[Ramsgate,  Postmark,  August  20,  1819.] 

My  dear  Friend,  —  Whether  from  the  mere  inten- 
sity of  the  heat,  and  the  restless,  almost  sleepless,  nights 
in  consequence,  or  from  incautious  exposure  to  draughts ; 
or  whether  simply  the  change  of  air  and  the  sea  bath  was 
repairing  the  intestinal  canal  (and  bad  indeed  must  the 
road  be  which  is  not  better  than  a  road  a-mendlnc/^  a 
hint  which  oiw  revohitionary  reformers  would  do  well  to 
attend  to)  or  from  whatever  cause,  I  have  been  miserably 
unwell  for  the  last  three  days  —  but  last  night  passed  a 
tolerably  good  night,  and,  finding  myself  convalescent 
this  morning,  I  bathed,  and  now  am  still  better,  having 
had  a  glorious  tumble  in  the  waves,  though  the  water  is 
still  not  cold  enough  for  my  liking.  The  weather,  how- 
ever, is  evidently  on  the  change,  and  we  have  now  a  suc- 
cession of  flying  April  showers,  and  needle  rains.  My 
bath  is  about  a  mile  and  a  quarter  from  the  Lime  Grove, 
a  wearisome  travail  by  the  deep  crumbly  sands,  but  a 
very  pleasant  breezy  walk  along  the  top  of  the  cliff,  from 
which  you  descend  through  a  deep  steep  lane  cut  through 
the  chalk  rocks.  The  tide  comes  up  to  the  end  of  the 
lane,  and  washes  the  cliff,  but  a  little  before  or  a  little 
after  high  tide  there  are  nice  clean  seats  of  rock  with 
foot-baths,  and  then  an  expanse  of  sand,  greater  than  I 


1819]  TO  MRS.   ADERS  701 

need ;  and  exactly  a  liuudred  of  my  strides  from  the  end 
of  the  lane  there  is  a  good,  roomy,  arched  cavern,  with  an 
oven  or  cupboard  in  it,  where  one's  clothes  may  be  put 
free  from  the  sand.  ...  I  find  that  I  can  write  no  more 
if  I  am  to  send  this  by  the  to-day's  post.  Pray,  if  you 
can  with  any  sort  of  propriety,  do  come  down  to  me  —  to 
us,  I  suppose  I  ought  to  say.  We  are  all  as  should  be 
Bur  fiovdTpovcrXt  (jiopfiaX.   .   .   . 

God  bless  you  and 

S.  T.  C. 

CCXXVI.    TO   MES.    ADERS.  [?]  ^ 

[HiGHGATE,  October  28,  1819.] 
Dear  Madam,  —  I  wish  from  my  very  heart  that  you 
could  teach  me  to  express  my  obligations  to  you  with  half 
the  grace  and  delicacy  with  which  you  confer  them ! 
But  not  to  the  Giver  does  the  evening  cloud  indicate  the 
rich  lights,  which  it  has  received  and  transmits  and  yet 
retains.  For  other  eyes  it  must  glow :  and  what  it  can- 
not return  it  will  strive  to  represe?it,  the  poor  proxy  of 
the  gracious  orb  which  is  departing.  I  would  that  the 
simile  were  less  accurate  throughout,  and  with  those  of 
Homer's  lost  its  likeness  as  it  approached  to  its  conclusion  ! 
This,  I  fear,  is  somewhat  too  selfish;  but  we  cannot  have 
attachment  without  fear  or  grief. 

"  We  cannot  choose  — 
But  weep  to  have  what  we  so  dread  to  lose," 

says  Nature's  child,  our  best  Shakespeare  ;  and  that  Hu- 
manity cannot  grieve  without  a  portion  of  selfishness,  Nature 
herself  says.  To  take  up  my  allegoric  strain  with  a  slight 
variation,  even  in  the  fairest  shews  and  liveliest  demon- 
strations of  grateful  and  affectionate  leave-taking  from  a 
generous  friend  or  disinterested  patron  or  benefactor,  we 

^  My  impression  is  that  this  letter  the  engraver  Raphael  Smith,  but  the 
was  written  to  Mrs.  Aders,  the  beau-  address  is  wanting  and  I  cannot 
tiful  and  accomplished  daughter  of    speak  with  any  certainty. 


702  NEW   LIFE  AND  NEW  FRIENDS  [Oct. 

are  like  evening  rainbows,  that  at  once  shine  and  weep, 
things  made  up  of  reflected  splendour  and  our  own  tears. ^ 

To  meet,  to  know,  t'  esteem  —  and  then  to  part, 
Forms  the  sad  tale  of  many  a  genial  heart.^ 

The  stonn  ^  now  louring  and  muttering  in  our  political 
atmosphere  might  of  itself  almost  forbid  me  to  regret 
your  leaving  England.  For  I  have  no  apprehension  of 
any  serious  or  extensive  danger  to  property  or  to  the 
coercive  powers  of  the  Law.  Both  reason  and  history 
preclude  the  fear  of  any  revolution,  where  none  of  the 
constituent  states  of  a  nation  are  arrayed  against  the 
others.  The  risk  is  still  less  in  Great  Britain  where 
property  is  so  widely  diffused  and  so  closely  interlinked 
and  co-organized.  But  I  dare  not  promise  as  much  for 
personal  safety.  The  struggle  may  be  short,  the  event 
certain ;  yet  the  mischief  in  the  interim  appalling  ! 

May  my  Fears, 
My  filial  fears,  be  vain !  and  may  the  vaunts 
And  menace  of  the  vengeful  enemy 
Pass  like  the  gust,  that  roared  and  died  away 

^  Compare  lines  16-20  of  The  Two  Poetical  Works,   p.  106.     See,  too, 

Founts  :  —  for  unprinted  stanza,  Ibid.  Editor's 

♦'  As  on  the  driving  cloud  the  shiny  bow,  Note,  p.  042. 

That  gracious  thing  made  up  of  tears  and  2  "  rp^    rp^^  Sisters."       Poetical 

"S"-"  Works,  p.  119. 
The  poem  as  a  whole  was  composed  "^  Tlie  so-called  "  Manchester  Mas- 
in  1826,  and,  as  I  am  assured  by  Mrs.  sacre,"  nicknamed  Peterloo,  took 
Henry  Watson  (on  the  authority  of  place  August  16,  1819.  Towards 
her  grandmother,  Mi-s.  Gillman),  the  middle  of  October  dangerous 
addressed  to  Mrs.  Aders ;  but  the  riots  broke  out  at  North  Shields, 
fifth  and  a  preceding  stanza,  which  Cries  of  "Blood  for  blood,"  "Man- 
Coleridge  marked  for  interpolation,  Chester  over  again,"  were  heard  in 
in  an  annotated  copy  of  Poetical  the  streets,  and  "  so  daiing  have  the 
Works,  1S28  (kindly  lent  me  by  Mrs.  mob  been  that  they  actually  threat- 
Watson),  must  have  been  written  be-  ened  to  burn  or  destroy  the  ships 
fore  that  date,  and  were,  as  I  gather  of  war."  Annual  Register,  October 
from  an  insertion  in  a  notebook,  ori-  15-23,  1819. 
^nally  addressed  to  Mrs.  Gillmau. 


1819]  TO   MRS.   ADERS  703 

In  the  distant  tree  :  which  heard,  and  only  heard 
In  this  low  dell,  bow'd  not  the  delicate  grass.^ 

1  confess  that  I  read  the  poem  from  which  these  lines 
are  extracted  ("  Fears  in  Solitude  ")  and  now  cite  them 
with  far  other  than  an  author  s  feelings ;  those,  I  trust, 
of  a  patriot,  I  am  sure,  those  of  a  Christian. 

You  will  not,  I  know,  fail  to  assure  Miss  Harding  ^  of 
the  kind  feelings  and  wishes  with  which  I  accompany 
her ;  but  my  sense  of  the  last  boon,  which  I  owe  to  her,  I 
shall  convey,  my  dear  madam !  by  hands  less  likely  to 
make  extenuating  comments  on  my  words  than  your 
tongue  or  hand.  Before  I  subscribe  my  name,  I  must 
tell  you  that  had  my  wish  been  the  chooser  and  had  taken 
a  month  to  deliberate  on  the  choice,  I  could  not  have 
received  a  keepsake  so  in  all  respects  gratifying  to  me, 
as  the  exquisite  impressions  of  cameo's  and  intaglio's.^ 
First,  it  enables  me  to  entertain  and  gratify  so  many 
friends,  my  own  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gillman's ;  secondly, 
every  little  gem  is  associated  with  my  recollections,  or 
more  or  less  recalls  the  images  and  persons  seen  and  met 
with  during  my  own  stay  in  the  Mediterranean  and  Italy ; 
thirdly,  they  stand  in  the  same  connection  with  the  places 
of  your  past  and  future  sojourn,  and  therefore,  lastly, 
supply  me  with  the  means  and  the  occasion  of  expressing 
to  others  more  strongly,  perhaps,  but  not  more  warmly  or 
sincerely  than  I  now  do  to  yourself,  with  how  much 
respect  and  regard  I  remain,  dear  madam, 

Your  obliged  friend  and  servant, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

Saturday,  28th  Octr.  1819.  On  the  20th  of  this  month 
completed  my  49th  year. 

^  "Fears  in  Solitude."     Poetical  gems,  once,  no  doubt,  the  property 

Works,  p.  127.  of  S.  T.  C,  is  now  in  the  possession 

2  Mrs.  Gillman'a  sister.  of     Alexander     Gillman,    Esq.,    of 
■  ^  A  collection  of  casts  of  antique  Sussex  Square,  Brighton. 


704  NEW  LIFE  AND  NEW  FRIENDS  [Jan. 

CCXXVII.    TO   J.    II.    GREEN. 

January  14,  1820. 

My  dear  Green,  —  Charles  Lamb  has  j  ust  written 
to  inform  me  that  he  and  his  sister  will  pay  me  their 
Neio  Years  visit  on  Sunday  next,  and  may  perhaps 
bring  a  friend  to  see  me,  though  certainly  not  to  dine, 
and  hopes  I  may  not  be  engaged.  I  must  therefore  defer 
onv  j^hUosopJiical  intercommuue  till  the  Sunday  after  ;  but 
if  you  have  no  more  pleasant  way  of  passing  the  ante- 
prandial or,  still  better,  the  day  including  prandial  and 
post-prandial,  I  trust  that  it  will  be  no  anti-philosophical 
expenditure  of  time,  and  I  need  not  say  an  addition  to 
the  pleasure  of  all  this  household.  I  should  like,  too,  to 
arrange  some  plan  of  going  with  you  to  Covent  Garden 
Theatre,  to  see  Miss  Wensley,  the  new  actress,  whose 
father  (a  merchant  of  Bristol,  at  whose  house  I  had  once 
been,  but  whom  the  capricious  Nymph  of  Trade  has  un- 
horsed from  his  seat)  has  called  on  me,  a  compound  of 
the  Oratorical,  the  Histrionic,  and  the  Exquisite !  All 
the  dull  colours  in  the  colour-shop  at  the  sign  of  the 
Bluecoat  Boy  would  not  suffice  to  neutralize  the  glare  of 
his  Colorit  into  any  tolerably  fair  likeness  that  wovdd  not 
be  scouted  as  Caricature  !  Gillman  will  give  you  a  slight 
sketch  of  him.  Since  I  saw  you,  we  have  dined  and 
spent  the  night  (for  it  was  near  one  when  we  broke  up) 
at  Mathews',  and  heard  and  saw  his  forthcoming  "  At 
Home."  There  were  present,  besides  G.  and  myself, 
Mrs.  and  young  Mathews,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Chisholm, 
James  Smith  of  Rej.  Add.  notoriety,  and  the  author  of 
(all  the  trash  of)  Mathews'  Entertainment,  for  the  good 
parts  are  his  own,  (What  a  pity  that  you  dare  not  offer 
a  word  of  friendly  sensible  advice  to  such  men  as  M.,  but 
you  may  be  certain  that  it  w^ill  be  useless  to  them  and 
attributed  to  envy  or  some  vile  selfish  object  in  the  ad- 


Derwent  Coleridge 


fi.:/^ 


^)M. 


mm^^ 


.**s? 


'''■ii>'i' 


.J*-'- 


i 


1820]  TO   J.   H.   GREEN  705 

viser !)  Mr.  Dubois/  the  author  of  "  Vaurien,"  "  Old 
Nic,"  "  My  Pocket  Book,"  and  a  notable  share  of  the 
theatrical  puffs  and  slanders  of  the  periodical  press  ;  and, 
lastly,  Mr.  Thomas  Hill,-  quondam  drysalter  of  Thames 
Street,  whom  I  remember  twenty-five  years  ago  with  ex- 
actly the  same  look,  person,  and  manners  as  now.  Math- 
ews calls  him  the  Immutable.  He  is  a  seemingly  al- 
ways good-natured  fellow  who  knows  nothing  and  about 
everything,  no  person,  and  about  and  all  about  every- 
body —  a  complete  parasite,  in  the  old  sense  of  a  dinner- 
hunter,  at  the  tables  of  all  who  entertain  public  men, 
authors,  players,  fiddlers,  booksellers,  etc.,  for  more  than 
thirty  years.     It  was  a  pleasant  evening,  however. 

Be  so  good  as  to  remember  the  drawing  from  the  Al- 
chemy Book. 

Mrs.  GiUman  desires  her  love  to  Mrs.  Green ;  and  we 
hope  that  the  twin  obstacles,  ague  and  the  boreal  weather, 
to  our  seeing  her  here,  will  vanish  at  the  same  time. 
Mrs.  G.  bids  me  tell  her  that  she  grumbles  at  the  doc- 
tors,  her   husband   included,  and   is    confident  that   her 

1  Edward  Dubois,  satirist,  1775-  of  Coleridge,  headed  "  A  Farewell, 
1850,  was  the  author  of  The  Wreath,  18o4,"  "  I  dined  in  company  at  my 
a  Translation  of  Boccaccio's  Decam-  father's  table,  I  sat  between  Cole- 
eron,  1804,  and  other  works  besides  ridge  and  Mr.  Hill  (known  as  '  Lit- 
those  mentioned  in  the  text.  Bio-  tie  Tommy  Hill')  of  the  Adelphi, 
graphical  Dictionary.  and  Ezekiel  then  formed  the  theme 

2  A  late  note-book  of  the  High-  of  Coleridge's  eloquence.  I  well  re- 
gate  period  contains  the  following  member  his  citing  the  chapter  of 
doggerel : t'*®  Dead  Bones,  and  his  sepulchral 

voice  as  lie  asked,  '  Can  these  bones 

To   THE   MOST  VERACIOUS   AnECDOTIST   AND         ..         r,  ,        rr>l  \  ■  i  i-  2.1      ^ 

„        „       „       .„  u,„    i7<,„        live?        Ihen,   his  observation  that 
Small-Talk  Man,  Thomas  Hill,  Esq.  ' 

nothing    in    the    range    of    human 

Tom  Hill  who  laughs  at  cares  and  woes,  i  i-„       ii 

.,.        ...  thought    was    more    sublime    than 

As  nauci  — mil  — pill  —  -r.     ,.   ,, 

What  is  belike  as  I  suppose?  Ezekiel  s  reply.      Lord,  thou  know- 

Why  to  be  sure,  a  Rose,  a  Rose.  est,'  in  deepest  humility,  not  presum- 

At  least  no  soul  that  Toiii  Hill  knows,  j„w  to  doubt  the  omnipotence  of  the 

Could  e'er  recall  a  Li-ly.  jyj    ^  High."     Letters  from  the  Lake 

Poets,  p.  322.    See,  too.  Letters  from 
"The    first    time,"    writes    Miss    Hill  to  Stuart,  iJ/t/.  p.  435. 
Stuart,  in  a  personal  remembrance 


700  NEW  LIFE  AND  NEW  FRIENDS  [May 

husband  would  have  made  a  cure  long  ago.  A  faitliful 
wife  is  a  common  blessing,  I  trust :  but  what  a  treasure 
to  have  a  wife  full  of  faith  !  By  tlie  bye,  I  have  lit  on 
some  (o)s  l/Aotye  SoKci  analogous)  cases  in  which  the  nau- 
seating plan,  even  for  a  short  time,  appears  to  have  had  a 
wonderful  effect  in  breaking  the  chain  of  a  morbid  ten- 
dency ;  and  the  almost  infallible  specific  of  sea-sickness 
in  curing  an  old  ague  is  surely  a  confirmation  as  far  as  it 
goes. 

Yours  most  affectionately, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CCXXYIII.    TO   THE   SAME. 

[May  25,  1820.] 
My  dear  Green,  —  I  was  greatly  affected  in  finding 
how  ill  you  had  been,  and  long  ere  this  should  have  let 
you  know  it,  but  that  I  have  myself  been  in  no  usual 
dejjree  unwell.  I  wish  I  could  with  truth  underline  the 
words  have  been,  and  in  the  hope  of  being  able  to  do  so  it 
was  that  I  delayed  answering  your  note.  Unless  a  speedy 
change  for  the  better  takes  place,  I  should  culpably  de- 
ceive myself  if  I  did  not  interpret  my  present  state  as  a 
summons.  God's  will  be  done !  I  cannot  pretend  that  I 
have  not  received  countless  warnings  ;  and  for  my  neglect 
and  for  the  habits,  and  all  the  feebleness  and  wastings  of 
the  moral  will  which  unfit  the  soul  for  spiritual  ascent, 
and  must  sink  it,  of  moral  necessity,  lower  and  lower,  if 
it  be  essentially  imperishable,  my  only  ray  of  hope  is  this, 
that  in  my  inmost  heart,  as  far  as  my  consciousness  can 
soimd  its  depths,  I  plead  nothing  but  my  utter  and  sinful 
helplessness  and  worthlessness  on  one  side,  and  the  infi- 
nite mercy  and  divine  Humanity  of  our  Creator  and 
Redeemer  crucified  from  the  beginning  of  the  world,  on 
the  other !  I  use  no  comparatives,  nor  indeed  could  I 
ever  charitably  interpret  the  penitential  phrases  ("  I  am 
the  vilest  of  sinners,  worse  than  the  wickedest   of   my 


1820]  TO  J.   H.  GREEN  707 

fellow-men,"  etc.)  otherwise  than  as  figures  o£  speech,  the 
whole  purport  of  which  is,  "  In  relation  to  God  I  appear 
to  myself  the  same  as  the  very  worst  man,  if  such  there 
be,  would  appear  to  an  earthly  tribunal."  I  mean  no 
comparatives ;  for  what  have  a  man's  permanent  concerns 
to  do  with  comparison  ?  What  avails  it  to  a  bird  shat- 
tered and  irremediably  disorganized  in  one  wing,  that 
another  bird  is  similarly  conditioned  in  both  wings?  Or 
to  a  man  in  the  last  stage  of  ulcerated  lungs,  that  his 
neighbour  is  liver-rotten  as  well  as  consumptive  ?  Both 
find  their  equation,  the  birds  as  to  flight,  the  men  as  to 
life.     In  o  o  o's  there  is  no  comparison. 

My  nephew,  the  Revd.  W.  Hart  Coleridge,  came  and 
stayed  here  from  Monday  afternoon  to  Tuesday  noon,  in 
order  to  make  Derwent's  acquaintance,  and  brought  with 
him  by  accident  Marsh's   Divinity   Lecture,  No  3rd,  on 
the  authenticity  and  credibility  of  the  Books  collected  in 
the  New  Testament.     As  I  could  not  sit  with  the  party 
after  tea,  I  took  the  pamphlet  with  me  into  my  bedroom, 
and  gave  it  an  attentive  perusal,  knowing  the  Bishop's 
intimate  acquaintance  with  the  investigations  of  Eichhorn, 
Paulus,    and    their    numerous    scarcely    less    celebrated 
scholars,    and   myself    familiar    with   the    works    of   the 
Gottingen  Professor  (Eichhorn),  the  founder  and  head 
of  the  daring  school.    I  saw  or  seemed  to  see  more  man- 
agement in  the  Lecture  than  proof  of  thorough  convic- 
tion.      I    supplied,    however,  from   my   own   reasonings 
enough  of    wliat    appeared    wanting  or  doubtful  in   the 
Bishop's  to  justify  the  conclusion  that  the  Gospel  History 
beginning  with  the  Baptism  of  John,  and  the  Doctrines 
contained  in  the  fourth  Gospel,  and  in  the  Epistles,  truly 
represent  the  assertions  of  the  Apostles  and  the  faith  of 
the  Christian  Church  during  the  first  century ;  that  there 
exists  no  tenable  or  even  tolerable  ground  for  doubting  the 
authenticitij  of  the  Books  ascribed  to  John  the  Evangelist, 
to  Mark,  to  Luke,  and  to  Paul ;  nor  the  authority  of  Mat- 


708  NEW  LIFE  AND  NEW  FRIENDS  [May 

thew  and  tlie  author  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews ;  and 
lastly,  that  a  man  need  only  have  common  sense  and  a 
good  heart  to  be  assured  that  these  Apostles  and  Apostolic 
men  wrote  nothing-  but  what  they  themselves  believed. 
And  yet  I  have  no  hesitation  in  avowing  that  many  an 
argument  derived  from  the  nature  of  man,  nay,  that 
many  a  strong  though  only  speculative  probability, 
pierces  deeper,  pushes  more  home,  and  clings  more  press- 
ingly  to  my  mind  than  the  whole  sum  of  merely  external 
evidence,  the  fact  of  Christianity  itself  alone  excepted. 
Nay,  I  feel  that  the  external  evidence  derives  a  great  and 
lively  accession  of  force,  for  my  mind,  from  my  previous 
speculative  convictions  or  presumptions ;  but  that  I  can- 
not fhid  that  the  latter  are  at  all  strengthened  or  made 
more  or  less  probable  to  me  by  the  former.  Besides,  as 
to  the  external  evidence  I  make  up  my  mind  once  for  all, 
and  merely  as  evidence  think  no  more  about  it ;  but  those 
facts  or  reflections  thereon  which  tend  to  change  belief 
into  insight,  can  never  lose  their  effect,  any  more  than 
the  distinctive  sensatiojis  of  disease,  compared  with  a 
more  perceived  corresjjondence  of  symptoms  with  the 
diagnostics  of  a  medical  book. 

I  was  led  to  this  remark  by  reflecting  on  the  awfid 
importance  of  the  phj-siological  question  (so  generally 
decided  one  way  by  the  late  most  popular  writers  on 
insanity),  Does  the  efficient  cause  of  disease  and  disor- 
dered action,  and,  collectively,  of  pain  and  perishing,  lie 
entirely  in  the  organs,  and  then,  reawakening  the  active 
principle  in  me,  depart  — that  all  pain  and  disease  would 
be  removed,  and  I  should  stand  in  the  same  state  as  I 
stood  in  previous  to  all  sickness,  etc.,  to  the  admission  of 
any  disturbing  forces  into  my  nature  ?  Or,  on  the  con- 
trary, would  such  a  repaired  Organismus  be  no  fit  organ 
for  my  life,  as  if,  for  instance,  a  worn  lock  with  an  equally 
worn  key  —  [the  key]  might  no  longer  fit  the  lock.  The 
repaired   organs  might  from  intimate  in-corresi)ondence 


1820]  TO  J.  H.  GREEN  709 

be  the  causes  of  torture  and  madness.  A  system  of 
materialism,  in  which  organisation  stands  first,  whether 
compared  by  Nature,  or  God  and  Life,  etc.,  as  its  results 
(even  as  the  sound  is  the  result  of  a  bell),  such  a  system 
would,  doubtless,  remove  great  part  of  the  terrors  which 
the  soul  makes  out  of  itself ;  but  then  it  removes  the  soul 
too,  or  rather  precludes  it.  And  a  supposition  of  coex- 
istence, without  any  ivechselwirkimg,  it  is  not  in  our 
power  to  adopt  in  good  earnest ;  or,  if  we  did,  it  would 
answer  no  purpose.  For  which  of  the  two,  soul  or  body, 
am  I  to  call  "  I "  ?  Again,  a  soul  separate  from  the 
body,  and  yet  entirely  ^mssive  to  it,  would  be  so  like  a 
drum  playing  a  tattoo  on  the  drummer,  that  one  cannot 
build  any  hope  on  it.  If  then  the  organisation  be  j^ri- 
marily  the  result,  and  only  by  reaction  a  cause,  it  would 
be  well  to  consider  what  the  cases  are  in  this  life,  in 
which  the  restoration  of  the  organisation  removes  disease. 
Is  the  organisation  ever  restored,  except  as  continually 
reproduced?  And  in  the  remaining  number  are  they 
not  cases  into  which  the  soul  never  entered  as  a  conscious 
or  rather  a  moral  cojiscionable  aoent  ?  The  resrular  re- 
production  of  scars,  marks,  etc.,  the  increased  suscepti- 
bility of  disease  in  an  organ,  after  a  perfect  apparent 
restoration  to  healthy  structure  in  action  ;  the  insuscepti- 
bility in  other  cases,  as  in  the  variolous  —  these  and 
many  others  are  fruitful  subjects,  and  even  imperfect  as 
the  induction  may  be,  and  must  be  in  our  present  degree 
of  knowledge,  we  might  yet  deduce  that  a  suicide,  under 
the  domination  of  disorderly  passions  and  erroneous 
principles,  plays  a  desperately  hazardous  game,  and  that 
the  chance  is,  he  may  re-house  himself  in  a  worse  hogs- 
head, with  the  nails  and  spikes  driven  inward  —  or,  sink- 
ing below  the  organising  power,  be  employed  fruitlessly 
in  a  horrid  appetite  of  re-skinning  himself,  after  he  had 
succeeded  mjleaing  his  life  and  leaving  all  its  sensibili- 
ties bare  to  the  ineursive  powers  without  even  the  cortex 


710  NEW  LIFE  AND  NEW  FRIENDS  [May 

of  a  nerve  to  sliiokl  them?  "Would  it  not  follow,  too, 
from  these  considerations,  that  a  redemptive  power  must 
be  necessary  if  immortality  be  true,  and  man  be  a  disor- 
dered being?  And  that  no  power  can  be  redemptive 
which  does  not  at  the  same  time  act  in  the  ground  of  the 
life  as  one  with  the  ground,  that  is,  must  act  in  my  will 
and  not  merely  on  my  will ;  and  yet  extrinsically,  as  an 
outward  power,  that  is,  as  that  which  outward  Nature  is 
to  the  organisation,  viz.  the  causa  corresj^ondens  ct  con- 
ditio 'perpctua  ah  extra  ?  Under  these  views,  I  cannot 
read  the  Sixth  Chapter  of  St.  John  without  great  emo- 
tion. The  Redeemer  cannot  be  merely  God,  unless  we 
adopt  Pantheism,  that  is,  deny  the  existence  of  a  God ; 
and  yet  God  he  must  be,  for  whatever  is  less  than  God, 
may  act  on,  but  cannot  act  in,  the  will  of  another. 
Christ  must  become  man,  but  he  cannot  become  lis,  except 
as  far  as  we  become  him,  and  this  we  cannot  do  but  by 
assimilation ;  and  assimilation  is  a  vital  real  act,  not  a 
notional  or  merely  intellective  one.  There  are  phenomena, 
which  are  phenomena  relatively  to  our  present  five  senses, 
and  these  Christ  forbids  us  to  understand  as  his  meaning, 
and,  collectively,  they  are  entitled  the  Flesh  that  perishes. 
But  does  it  follow  that  there  are  no  other  phenomena  ? 
or  that  these  media  of  manifestation  might  not  stand  to  a 
spiritual  world  and  to  our  enduring  life  in  the  same  rela- 
tion as  our  visible  mass  of  body  stands  to  the  world  of 
the  senses,  and  to  the  sensations  correspondent  to,  and 
excited  by,  the  stimulants  of  that  world.  Lastly,  would 
not  the  sum  of  the  latter  phenomena  (the  spiritual)  be 
appropriately  named,  the  Flesh  and  Blood  of  the  divine 
Humanity  ?  If  faith  be  a  mere  apperception,  eine  hlbsse 
Wahrnehmung,  this,  I  grant,  is  senseless.  For  it  is 
evident,  tliat  the  assimilation  in  question  is  to  be  carried 
on  by  faith.  But  if  faith  be  an  energy,  a  positive  act, 
and  that  too  an  act  of  intensest  power,  why  should  it 
necessarily  differ  in  toto  genere  from   any  other  act^  ex. 


1820]  TO   J.   H.  GREEN  711 

gr.  from  that  of  tlie  animal  life  in  the  stomach  ?  It  will 
be  found  easier  to  laugh  or  stare  at  the  question  than  to 
prove  its  irrationahility.  Enough  for  the  present.  I  had 
been  told  that  Dr.  Leach  ^  wasaLawrencian,  a  materialist, 
and  I  know  not  what.  I  met  him  at  Mr.  Abernethy's, 
and  with  sincere  delight  I  found  him  the  very  contrary  in 
every  respect.  Except  yourself,  I  have  never  met  so 
enlarged  or  so  bold  a  love  of  truth  in  an  English  physiol- 
ogist. The  few  minutes  of  conversation  that  I  had  the 
power  of  enjoying  have  left  a  strong  wish  in  my  mind  to 
see  more  of  him. 

Give  my  kind  love  to  Mrs.  Green.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Gillman  are  anxious  to  see  you.  I  assure  you  they  were 
very  much  affected  by  the  account  of  your  health. 
Yoimg  Allsop  behaves  more  like  a  dutiful  and  anxious 
son  thaai  an  acquaintance.  He  came  up  yester-night  at 
ten  o'clock,  and  left  the  house  at  eight  this  morning,  in 
order  to  urge  me  to  go  to  some  sea-bathing  place,  if  it 
was  thought  at  all  advisable. 

Derwent  goes  on  in  every  respect  to  my  satisfaction 
and  comfort. 

Again  and  again,  God  bless  you  and  your  sincerely 
affectionate  friend, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

^  William    Elford    Leach,   1790-  tures  on  the  Physiology,    Zoology, 

1836,  a  physician  and  naturalist,  was  and  Natural  History  of  Man,"  which 

at  this  time  Curator  of  the  Natural  were  delivered   in  1816,  are  alluded 

History  Department  at  the  British  to  more  than  once  in   liis  "  Theory 

Museum.  of   Life."      "Theory   of    Life"   in 

By  Lawrencian,  Coleridge  means  Miscellanies,  Esthetic  and  Literary, 

a  disciple   of   the  eminent   surgeon  Bohn's  Standard   Library,  pp.  377, 

William    Lawrence,    whose    "  Lee-  385. 


712  NEW  LIFE  AND  NEW  FRIENDS  [Feb. 

CCXXIX.    TO   CHARLES   AUGUSTUS   TULK. 

February  12,  1821. 

My  dear  Sir,  —  "  They  say,  Coleridge !  that  you 
are  a  Swedenborgian  !  "  "  Would  to  God,"  I  replied 
fervently,  "that  t hey  •were  amjthingy  I  was  writing  a 
brief  essay  on  the  prospects  of  a  country  where  it  has 
become  the  mind  of  the  nation  to  appreciate  the  evil  of 
public  acts  and  measures  by  their  next  consecpiences  or 
immediate  occasions,  while  the  2)^"inciple  violated,  or  that 
a  principle  is  thereby  violated,  is  either  wholly  dropped 
out  of  the  consideration,  or  is  introduced  but  as  a  garnish 
or  ornamental  commonplace  in  the  peroration  of  a  speech ! 
The  deep  interest  was  present  to  my  thoughts  of  that 
distinction  between  the  lieason,  as  the  source  of  princi- 
ples, the  true  celestial  influx  and  porta  Dei  in  hominem 
ceternum,  and  the  Understanding  ;  with  the  clearness  of 
the  proof,  by  which  this  distinction  is  evinced,  viz.  that 
vital  or  zoo-organic  power,  instinct,  and  understanding 
fall  all  three  under  the  same  definition  in  genere,  and  the 
very  additions  by  which  the  definition  is  a])plied  from  the 
first  to  the  second,  and  from  the  second  to  the  third,  are 
themselves  expressive  of  degrees  only,  and  in  degree  only 
deniable  of  the  preceding.  (^Ex.  gr.  1.  Reflect  on  the 
selective  power  exercised  by  the  stomach  of  the  caterpillar 
on  the  undigested  miscellany  of  food,  and,  2,  the  same 
power  exercised  by  the  caterpillar  on  the  outward  plants, 
and  you  will  see  the  order  of  the  conceptions.)  1.  Vital 
Power  =  the  power  by  which  means  are  adapted  to  proxi- 
mate ends.  2.  Instinct  =  the  power  irliicli  adajUs  means 
to  proximate  ends.  3.  Understanding  =  the  power  which 
adapts  means  to  proximate  ends  according  to  varying 
circumstances.  May  I  not  safely  challenge  any  man  to 
peruse  Ruber's  "  Treatise  on  Ants,"  and  yet  deny  their 
claim  to  be  included  in  the  last  definition.  But  try  to 
apply  the  same  defuiition,  with  any  extension  of  degree, 


1821]  TO  CHARLES  AUGUSTUS  TULK  713 

to  the  reason,  the  absurdity  will  flash  upon  the  convic- 
tion. First,  in  reason  there  is  and  can  be  no  degree. 
Deus  introit  aut  non  introit.  Secondly,  in  reason  there 
are  no  means  nor  ends,  reason  itself  being  one  with  the 
ultimate  end,  of  which  it  is  the  manifestation.  Thirdly, 
reason  has  no  concern  with  things  (that  is,  the  imperma- 
nent flux  of  particulars),  but  with  the  permanent  Rela- 
tions ;  and  is  to  be  defined  even  in  its  lowest  or  theoret- 
ical attribute,  as  the  power  which  enables  man  to  draw 
necessary  and  universal  conclusions  from  particular  facts 
or  forms,  ex.  gr.  from  any  three-cornered  thing,  that  the 
two  sides  of  a  triangle  are  and  must  be  greater  than  the 
third.  From  the  understanding  to  the  reason,  there  is  no 
continuous  ascent  possible ;  it  is  a  metabasis  eis  aAAo  ycVos 
even  as  from  the  air  to  the  light.  The  true  essential 
peculiarity  of  the  human  understanding  consists  in  its 
capability  of  being  irradiated  by  the  reason,  in  its  recip- 
iency ;  and  even  this  is  given  to  it  by  the  presence  of  a 
higher  power  than  itself.  What  then  must  be  the  fate 
of  a  nation  that  substitutes  Locke  for  logic,  and  Paley  for 
morality,  and  one  or  the  other  for  polity  and  theology, 
according  to  the  predominance  of  Whig  or  Tory  predi- 
lection. Slavery,  or  a  commotion  is  at  hand  !  But  if 
the  gentry  and  clerisy  (including  all  the  learned  and 
educated)  do  this,  then  the  nation  does  it,  or  a  commo- 
tion is  at  hand.  Ace2Jhalum  enim,  aura  quamvis  et 
calore  vitali  potiatur,  morientem  rectius  dicimus,  quani 
quod  vivit.  AVith  these  thoughts  was  I  occupied  when  I 
received  your  very  kind  and  most  acceptable  present,  and 
the  results  I  must  defer  to  the  next  post.  With  best 
regards  to  Mrs.  Tulk, 

Believe  me,  in  the   brief  interval,  your   obliged   and 
grateful 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

C.  A.  Tulk,  Esq.,  M.  P.,  Regency  Park. 


CHAPTER   XIV 
THE  PHILOSOPHER  AND  DIVINE 

1822-1832 


I 


CHAPTER   XIV 

THE   PHILOSOPHER  AND   DIVINE 

1822-1832 

CCXXX.    TO   JOHN   MURRAY. 

HiGHGATE,  January  18,  1822. 

Dear  Sir,  —  If  not  with  the  works,  you  are  doubtless 
familiar  with  the  name  of  that  "  wonderful  man  "  (for 
such,  says  Doddridge,  I  must  deliberately  call  him),  Arch- 
bishoj)  Leighton.  It  would  not  be  easy  to  point  out  an- 
other name,  which  the  eminent  of  all  parties.  Catholic 
and  Protestant,  Episcopal  and  Presbyterian,  Whigs  and 
Tories,  have  been  so  unanimous  in  extolling.  "  There  is 
a  spirit  in  Archbishop  Leighton  I  never  met  with  in 
any  human  writings  ;  nor  can  I  read  many  lines  in  them 
without  impressions  which  I  coidd  wish  always  to  retain," 
observes  a  dignitary  of  our  Establishment  and  F.  R.  S. 
eminent  in  his  day  both  as  a  philosopher  and  a  divine. 
In  fact,  it  would  make  no  small  addition  to  the  size  of 
the  volume,  if,  as  was  the  fashion  in  editing  the  classics, 
we  shoidd  collect  the  eulogies  on  his  writings  passed  by 
bishops  only  and  church  divines,  from  Burnet  to  Porteus. 
That  this  confluence  of  favourable  opinions  is  not  without 
good  cause,  my  own  experience  convinces  me.  For  at  a 
time  when  I  had  read  but  a  small  portion  of  the  Arch- 
bishop's principal  work,  when  I  was  altogether  ignorant 
of  its  celebrity,  much  more  of  the  peculiar  character  at- 
tributed to  his  writings  (that  of  making  and  leaving  a 
deep  impression  on  readers  of  all  classes),  I  remember 


718  THE  PHILOSOPHER  AND  DIVINE  [Jan. 

saying  to  ]\Ir.  Southey  ^  "  that  in  the  Apostolic  Epistles  I 
hcaril  the  last  hour  of  Inspiration  striking,  and  in  Ai-ch. 
Leighton's  commentary  the  lingering  vibration  of  the 
sounil."  Perspicuous,  I  had  almost  said  trans})arent,  his 
style  is  elegant  by  the  mere  comjjulsion  of  the  thoughts 
and  feelings,  and  in  despite,  as  it  were,  of  the  writer's 
wisli  to  the  contrary.  Profound  as  his  conceptions  often 
are,  and  numerous  as  the  passages  are,  where  the  most 
athletic  thinker  will  find  himself  tracing  a  rich  vein  from 
the  surface  downward,  and  leave  off  with  an  unknown 
depth  for  to-morrow's  delving  — yet  there  is  this  quality 
peculiar  to  Leighton,  unless  we  add  Shakespeare  —  that 
there  is  always  a  scum  on  the  very  surface  which  the 
simplest  may  understand,  if  they  have  head  and  heart  to 
understand  anything.  The  same  or  nearly  the  same 
excellence  characterizes  his  eloquence.  Leighton  had  by 
nature  a  quick  and  pregnant  fancy,  and  the  august  ob- 
jects of  his  habitual  contemplation,  and  their  remoteness 
from  the  outward  senses,  his  constant  endeavour  to  see  or 
to  bring  all  things  under  some  point  of  unity,  but,  above 
all,  the  rare  and  vital  union  of  head  and  heart,  of  light 
and  love,  in  his  own  character,  —  all  these  working  con- 
jointly could  not  fail  to  form  and  nourish  in  him  the 
higher  power,  and  more  akin  to  reason,  the  power,  I 
mean,  of  imagination.  And  yet  in  his  freest  and  most 
figurative  passages  there  is  a  subdvedness,  a  self-checking 
timidity  in  his  colouring,  a  sobering  silver-grey  tone  over 
all ;  and  an  experienced  eye  may  easily  see  where  and  in 
how  many  instances  Leighton  has  substituted  neutral 
tints  for  a  strong  light  or  a  bold  relief  —  by  this  sacrifice, 
however,  of  particular  effects,  giving  an  increased  per- 
manence to  the  impression  of  the  whole,  and  wonderfully 
facilitating  its  soft  and  quiet  ilhqjse  into  the  very  recesses 
of   our    convictions.       Leighton's  happiest  ornaments  of 

1  Incliulecl  in  the  Omniana  of   1809-1816.      Table  Talk,  etc.,  Bell   & 
Sons,  1884,  p.  400. 


1822]  TO   JOHN  MUERAY  719 

style  are  made  to  appear  as  efforts  on  the  part  of  the 
author  to  express  himself  less  ornamentally,  more  plainly. 
Since  the  late  alarm  respecting-  Church  Calvinism  and 
Calvinistic  Methodism  (a  cry  of  Fire  I  Fire  !  in  conse- 
quence of  a  red  glare  on  one  or  two  of  the  windows,  from 
a  bonfire  of  straw  and  stubble  in  the  church-yard,  while 
the  dry  rot  of  virtual  Socinianism  is  snugly  at  work  in  the 
beams  and  joists  of  the  venerable  edifice)  I  have  heard 
of  certain  gentle  doubts  and  questions  as  to  the  Arch- 
bishop's perfect  orthodoxy  —  some  small  speck  in  the 
diamond  wliich  had  escajjed  the  quick  eye  of  all  former 
theological  jewellers  from  Bishop  Burnet  to  the  outra- 
geously anti-Methodistic  Warburton.  But  on  what  grounds 
I  cannot  even  conjecture,  unless  it  be,  that  the  Christian- 
ity which  Leighton  teaches  contains  the  doctrines  pecvdiar 
to  the  Gospel  as  well  as  the  truths  common  to  it  with  the 
(so-called)  light  of  nature  or  natural  religion,  that  he 
dissuades  students  and  the  generality  of  Christians  from 
all  attempts  at  explaining  the  mj'Steries  of  faith  by 
notional  and  metaphysical  speculations,  and  rather  by  a 
heavenly  life  and  temper  to  obtain  a  closer  view  of  these 
truths,  the  jfull  light  and  knowledge  of  which  it  is  in 
Heaven  only  that  we  shall  possess.  He  further  advises 
them  in  speaking  of  these  truths  to  proper  scripture 
language  ;  but  since  something  more  than  this  had  been 
made  necessary  by  the  restless  spirit  of  dispute,  to  take 
this  "  something  more  "  in  the  sound  precise  terms  of  the 
Liturgy  and  Articles  of  the  Established  Church.  En- 
thusiasm ?  Fanaticism  ?  Had  I  to  recommend  an  anti- 
dote, I  declare  on  my  conscience  that  above  all  others  it 
should  be  Leighton.  And  as  to  Calvinism,  L.'s  exposi- 
tion of  the  scriptural  sense  of  election  ought  to  have  i)re- 
vented  the  very  [suspicion  of  its  presence].  You  will 
long  ago,  I  fear,  have  [been  asking  yourself],  To  what 
does  all  this  tend  ?  Briefly  then,  I  feel  strongly  per- 
suaded,  perhaps   because   I   strongly   wish   it,    that  the 


*• 


720  THE  PHILOSOPHER  AND  DIVINE  [Oct. 

Beauties  of  Archbishop  Leigliton,  selected  and  method- 
ized, with  a  (better)  Life  of  the  Author,  that  is,  a  bio- 
graphical and  critical  introduction  as  Preface,  and  Notes, 
would  make  not  only  a  useful  but  an  interesting  Pocket 
Volume.  "  Beauties "  in  general  are  objectionable 
works —  injurious  to  the  original  author,  as  disorganizing 
his  productions,  pulling  to  pieces  the  well-wrought  crown 
of  his  glory  to  pick  out  the  shining  stones,  and  injurious 
to  the  reader,  by  indulging  the  taste  for  unconnected,  and 
for  that  reason  unretained  single  thoughts,  till  it  fares 
with  him  as  with  the  old  gentleman  at  Edinburgh,  who 
eat  six  kittywakes  by  way  of  lohettiny  his  appetite  — 
"  whereas  "  (said  he)  "  it  proved  quite  the  contrary :  I 
never  sat  down  to  a  dinner  with  so  little."  But  Lei<rh- 
ton's  principal  work,  that  which  fills  two  volumes  and  a 
half  of  the  four,  being  a  commentary  on  St.  Peter's  Epis- 
tles, verse  by  verse,  and  varying,  of  course,  in  subject, 
etc.,  with  almost  every  paragraph,  the  volume,  I  propose, 
would  not  only  bring  together  his  finest  passages,  but 
these  being  afterwards  arranged  on  a  princi})le  wholly 
independent  of  the  accidental  })lace  of  each  in  the  original 
volumes,  and  guided  by  their  relative  bearings,  it  would 
give  a  connection  or  at  least  a  propriety  of  sequency^  that 
was  before  of  necessity  wanting.  It  may  be  worth  noti- 
cing, that  the  editions,  both  the  one  in  three,  and  the  other 
in  four  volumes,  are  most  grievously  misprinted  and 
otherwise  disfigured.  Should  you  be  disposed  to  think 
this  worthy  your  attention,  I  would  even  send  you  the 
proof  transcribed,  sheet  by  sheet,  as  it  shoidd  be  printed, 
though  doubtless  by  sacrificing  one  copy  of  Leighton's 
works,  it  might  be  effected  by  references  to  volume,  page, 
and  line,  I  having  first  carefidly  corrected  the  copy.  Or, 
should  you  think  another  more  likely  to  execute  the  plan 
better,  or  that  another  name  would  better  promote  its 
sale,  I  should  by  no  means  resent  the  preference,  nor  feel 
any  mortification  for  which,  the  having  occasioned   the 


1822]  TO  JAMES  GILLMAN  721 

existence  of  siicli  a  work,  tastefully  selected  and  judiciously 
arranged,  would  not  be  sufficient  compensation  for, 
Dear  sir,  your  obliged 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CCXXXI.    TO   JAilES   GILLMAN. 

October  28,  1822. 

Dear  Friexd,  —  Words,  I  know,  are  not  wanted  be- 
tween you  and  me.  But  there  are  occasions  so  awful, 
there  may  be  instances  and  manifestations  so  affecting, 
and  drawing  up  with  them  so  long  a  train  from  behind, 
so  many  folds  of  recollection,  as  they  come  onward  on 
one's  mind,  that  it  seems  but  a  mere  act  of  justice  to  one's 
self,  a  debt  we  owe  to  the  dignity  of  our  moral  nature,  to 
give  them  some  record  —  a  relief,  which  the  spirit  of  man 
asks  and  demands  to  contemplate  in  some  outward  sym- 
bol of  what  it  is  inwardly  solemnizing.  I  am  still  too 
much  under  the  cloud  of  past  misgivings  ;  ^  too  much  of 
the  stun  and  stupor  from  the  recent  peals  and  thunder- 
crash  still  remains  to  permit  me  to  anticipate  other  than 
by  wishes  and  prayers  what  the  effect  of  your  unweariable 
kindness  may  be  on  poor  Hartley's  mind  and  conduct.  I 
pray  fervently,  and  I  feel  a  cheerful  trust  that  I  do  not 
pray  in  vain,  that  on  my  own  mind  and  spring  of  action  it 
wdll  be  proved  not  to  have  been  wasted.  I  do  inwardly 
believe  that  I  shall  yet  do  something  to  thank  you,  my 
dear  Gillman,  in  the  way  in  which  you  would  wish  to  be 
thanked,  by  doing  myself  honour. 

Mrs.  Gillman  has  been  determined  by  your  letter,  and 
the  heavenly  weather,  and  moral  certainty  of  the  contin- 

^  Compare  a  letter  of   Coleridge  ticular  letter,  with  its  thinly-veiled 

to  Allsop,  dated  October  8,  1822,  in  allusions   to   Wordsworth,   Sonthey, 

which  he  details  "  the  four  griping  and  to  Coleridge's  sons,   which  not 

and  grasping  sorrows,  each  of  which  only     excited    indignation     against 

seemed  to  have  my  very  heart  in  its  Allsop,  but  moved  Southey  to  write 

hands,  compressing  or  wringing."  a  letter  to  Cottle.     Letters,  Conver- 

It  was  the  publication  of  this  par-  sation,  etc.,  1S30,  ii.  140-1-16. 


722  THE  PHILOSOPHER  AND  DIVINE  [July 

uance  of  hatJilng-weather  at  least,  to  accept  her  sister's 
offer  of  coming  into  Kamsgate  and  to  take  a  house,  for  a 
fortnight  certain,  at  a  guinea  a  week,  in  the  buiklings 
next  to  Wellington  Crescent,  and  having  a  certain  modi- 
cum and  segment  of  sea-peep.  You  remember  the  house 
(the  end  one)  with  a  balcony  at  the  window,  almost  in  a 
line  with  the  Duke  of  W  .  .  .  .  in  wood,  H(jnum  vit((\  like 
as  life.  I  had  thought  of  keeping  my  present  bedroom 
at  10s.  6d.  a  week,  but  on  consulting  Mrs.  Rogers,  she 
did  not  think  that  this  would  satisfy  the  etiquette  of  the 
world,  though  the  two  houses  are  on  different  cliffs ;  and 
I  felt  so  confident  of  the  effect  of  the  bathing  and  Rams- 
gate  transpai'ent  water,  the  sands,  the  pier,  etc.,  that  as 
there  was  no  alternative  but  of  giving  up  the  bathing 
(for  Mrs.  G.  would  not  stay  by  herself,  partly,  if  not 
chiefly,  becavise  she  feared  I  might  add  more  to  your 
anxiety  than  your  comfort  in  your  bachelor  state  and  ^vith 
only  Bessy  of  Beccles)  or  having  Jane,  I  voted  for  the 
latter,  and  will  do  my  very  best  to  keep  her  in  good 
humour  4ind  good  spirits. 

Dear  Friend,  and  Brother  of  my  Soul,  God  only  knows 
how  truly  and  in  the  depth  you  are  loved  and  prized  by 
your  affectionate  friend, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CCXXXn.    TO   MISS   BRENT.l 

July  7,  1823. 

My  DEAR  Charlotte,  —  I  have  been  many  times  in 
town  within  the  last  three  or  four  weeks ;  but  with  one 
exception,  when  I  was  driven  in  and  back  by  Mr.  Gillman 

'  Compare  "The  Wanderer's  Fare-  Hammersmith,  in  London,  and  in 
well  to  Two  Sisters  "  (Mrs.  Morgan  the  West  of  England,  he  received 
and  Miss  Brent),  1807.  Miss  Brent  from  these  ladies  tlie  most  affection- 
made  her  home  with  her  married  ate  care  and  attention,  both  in  sick- 
sister,  Mrs.  J.  J.  Morgan,  and  during  ness  and  in  health.  Poetical  Works, 
the  years  1810-1815,  when  Coleridge  pp.  179,  180. 
lived    under   the  Morgans'  roof  at 


1823]  TO  MISS  BRENT  723 

to  hear  tlie  present  idol  of  the  world  of  fashion,  the 
Revd.  Mr.  Irving,  the  super-Ciceronian,  ultra-Demos- 
thenic pulpiteer  of  the  Scotch  Chapel  in  Cross  Street, 
Hatton  Garden,  I  have  been  always  at  the  West  End  of 
the  town,  and  mostly  dancing  attendance  on  a  proud 
bookseller,  and  I  fear  to  little  purpose  —  weary  enough  of 
ray  existence,  God  knows  !  and  yet  not  a  tittle  the  more 
disposed  to  better  it  at  the  price  of  aj)ostacy  or  suppres- 
sion of  the  truth.  If  I  could  but  once  get  off  the  two 
works,  on  which  I  rely  for  the  proof  that  I  have  not  lived 
in  vain,  and  had  those  off  my  mind,  I  could  then  main- 
tain myself  well  enough  by  writing  for  the  purpose  of 
what  I  got  by  it ;  but  it  is  an  anguish  I  cannot  look  in 
the  face,  to  abandon  just  as  it  is  completed  the  work  of 
such  intense  and  long-continued  labour ;  and  if  I  cannot 
make  an  agTcement  with  Murray,  I  must  try  Colbourn, 
and  if  with  neither,  owing  to  the  loud  calumny  of  the 
"  Edinburgh,"  and  the  silent  but  more  injurious  detrac- 
tion of  the  "  Quarterly  Review,"  I  must  try  to  get  them 
published  by  subscription.  But  of  this  when  we  meet. 
I  write  at  present  and  to  you  as  the  less  busy  sister,  to 
beg  you  will  be  so  good  as  to  send  me  the  volume  of 
Southey's  "  Brazil,"  which  I  am  now  in  particular  want 
of,  by  the  Ilighgate  Stage  that  sets  off  just  before  Mid- 
dle Row.  "  Mr.  Coleridge,  or  J.  GiUman,  Esq.  (either 
will  do),  Highgate." 

My  kind  love  to  Mary.    I  have  little  doubt  that  I  shall 
see  you  in  the  course  of  next  week. 

Do  you  think  of  taking  rooms  out  of  the  smoke  during 
this  summer  for  any  time  ? 

God  bless  you,  my    dear   Charlotte,  and  your   affec- 
tionate 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 


724  THE  PHILOSOPHER  AND  DIVINE  [July 

CCXXXIII.    TO   THE   REV.   EDWARD   COLERIDGE.^ 

HioHGATE,  July  23,  1823. 

My  dear  Edward,  —  From  Carlisle  to  Keswick  there 
are  several  routes  possible,  and  neither  of  these  without 
some  attraction.  The  choice,  however,  lies  between  two ; 
which  to  prefer,  I  find  it  hard  to  decide,  and  if,  as  on  the 
whole  I  am  disposed  to  do,  I  advise  the  former,  it  is  not 
from  thinking  the  other  of  inferior  interest.  On  the 
contrary,  if  your  laldmj  were  comprised  between  Carlisle 
and  Keswick,  I  should  not  hesitate  to  recommend  the 
latter  in  preference,  but  because  the  first  will  bring  you 
soonest  to  Keswick,  where  Mr.  Southey  still  is,  having, 
as  your  cousin  Sara  writes  me,  deferred  his  journey  to 
town,  on  account  of  his  book  on  "The  Church,"  which 
has  outgrown  its  intended  dimensions  ;  and  because  the 
sort  of  "  scenery  "  (to  use  that  slang  word  best  confined 
to  the  creeking  Daubenies  of  the  Theatre)  on  the  latter 
route,  is  what  you  will  have  abundant  opportunities  of 
seeing  with  the  one  leg  of  your  compass  fixed  at  Kes- 
wick. 

First  then,  you  may  go  from  Carlisle  to  Rose  Castle, 
and  spend  an  hour  in  seeing  that  and  its  circumfer- 
ency ;  and  from  thence  to  Caldhech,  its  waterfalls  and 
faery  caldrons,  Avith  the  Pulpit  and  Clerk's  Desk  Rocks, 
over  which  the  Cata-,  or  rather  Kitten-ract,  flings  itself, 
and  the  cavern  to  the  right  of  the  fall,  as  you  front  it ; 
and  from  Caldbcck  to  the  foot  of  Bassenthwaite,  when 
you  are  in  the  vale  of  Keswick  and  not  many  miles  from 
Greta  Hall.     The  second  route  is  from  Carlisle  to  Pen- 

^  The    Reverend    Edward    Cole-  corresponded   with    his  uncle,  who 

ridge,    1800-1883,    the     sixth     and  was    greatly  attached    to    him,   on 

youngest  son  of  Colonel  James  Cole-  philosophical   and  theological  ques- 

ridge,  was  for  many  years  a  Master  tions.     It  was  to  him  that  the  "  Con- 

and    afterwards  a  Fellow  of   Eton,  fessions   of    an    Enquiring    Spirit '' 

He   also  held  the    College  living  of  were    originally    addressed    in    the 

Mapledurhara   near    Reading.      He  form  of  letters. 


1823]  TO  EDWARD   COLERIDGE.  725 

rith  (a  road  of  little  or  no  interest),  but  from  Carlisle 
you  would  go  to  Lowther  (Earl  of  Lonsdale's  seat  and 
magnificent  grounds),  the  village  of  Lowther,  Hawes 
Water,  and  from  Hawes  Water  you  might  pass  over  the 
mountains  into  Ulleswater,  and  when  there,  you  might  go 
round  the  head  of  the  lake  (that  is,  Patterdale),  and,  if 
on  foot  and  strong  enough  and  the  weather  is  fine,  pass 
over  Helvellyn,  and  so  get  into  the  high  road  between 
Grasmere  and  Keswick,  or,  passing  lower  down  on  the 
lake,  cross  over  by  Graystock,  or  with  a  guide  or  manual 
instructions,  over  the  fells  so  as  to  come  out  at  or  not  far 
from  Threlkeld,  which  is  but  three  or  four  miles  from 
Keswick.  At  least  in  good  weather  there  is,  I  believe,  a 
tolerably  equit'ihle  (that  is,  horse  or  pony-tolerating) 
track.  But  at  Patterdale  you  would  receive  the  best 
direction.  There  is  an  inn  at  Patterdale  where  you 
might  sleep,  so  as  to  make  one  day  of  it  from  Penrith  to 
the  Lake  Head,  via  Lowther  and  Hawes  Water ;  and 
thence  to  Keswick  would  take  good  part  of  a  second. 
There  is  one  consideration  in  favour  of  this  plan,  that 
from  Carlisle  to  Penrith,  or  even  to  Lowther,  you  might 
go  by  the  coach,  and  I  question  whether  you  could  reach 
Greta  Hall  by  the  Caldbeck  Route  in  one  day  when  at 
Kes\\dck.  When  at  Keswick,  I  would  advise  you  to  go 
to  Wastdale  through  Borrowdale,  and  if  you  coidd  return 
by  Crummoek  and  througli  the  vale  of  Newlands,  the 
inverted  arch  of  which  (on  the  i^  (A  B)  of  which  I  once 
saw  the  two  legs  of  a  rich  rainbow  so  as  to  form  with  the 
arch  a  perfect  circle)  faces  Greta  Hall,  you  will  have 
seen  the  very  pith  and  marrow  of  the  Lakes,  especially  as 
your  route  to  Chester  or  Liverpool  will  take  you  that 
heavenly  road  through  Thirl  mere,  Grasmere,  Rj'dal 
(where  you  will,  of  course,  pay  your  respects  to  Mr. 
Wordsworth),  Ambleside,  and  the  striking  half  of  AVin- 
dermere. 

God  bless  you  !     Pray  take  care  of  yourself,  were  it 


726  THE  PHILOSOPHER  AND  DIVINE  [Feb, 

only  tliat  you  know  how  fearful  and  anxious  your  father 
and  Fanny  ^  are  respecting  your  chest  and  lungs,  in  case 
of  cold  or  over-exertion. 

I  have  heard  from  Sara  and  from  Mr.  Watson  (a  friend 
of  mine  who  has  just  come  from  the  North)  a  very  com- 
fortable account  of  Hartley. 

Believe  me,  dear  Edward,  with  every  kind  wish,  your 
affectionate  uncle  and  sincere  friend, 

[S.  T.  Coleridge.] 

P.  S.  Your  query  respecting  the  poem  I  can  only 
answer  by  a  Nescio.  Irving  (the  Scotch  preacher,  so 
blackguarded  in  the  "  John  Bull "  of  last  Sunday),  cer- 
tainly the  greatest  orator  I  ever  heard  (N.  B.  I  make 
and  mean  the  same  distinction  between  oratory  and  elo- 
quence as  between  the  mouth  -\-  the  windpipe  and  the 
brain  -f-  heart),  is,  however,  a  man  of  great  simplicity,  of 
overflowing  affections,  and  enthusiastically  in  earnest; 
and  I  have  reason  to  believe,  deejily  regrets  his  conjunction 
of  Southey  with  Byron,  as  far  as  the  men  (and  not  the 
poems)  are  in  question. 

CCXXXIV.    TO   J.    H.    GREEN. 

Grove,  Highgate,  February  15, 1824. 
I  mentioned  to  you,  I  believe,  Basil  Montagu's  kind 
endeavour  to  have  an  associateship  of  the  Royal  Society 
of  Literature  (a  yearly  XlOO  versus  a  yearly  essay)  con- 
ferred on  me.  I  knew  nothing  of  the  particulars  till 
this  morning,  or  rather  till  within  this  hour,  when  I  re- 
ceived a  list  of  names  (electors)  from  Mr.  Montagu,  with 
advice  to  write  to  such  and  such  and  such  —  while  he, 
and  he,  and  he  had  promised  "ybr  us "  —  in  short,  a 
regular  canvass,  or  rather  sackcloth  with  the  ashes  on  it 

^  Colonel  Coleridge's  only  daugh-     tice  Patteson,  a  Judge  of  the  Queen's 
ter,  Frances  Duke,  was  afterwards     Bench, 
married  to  the  Honourable  Mr.  Jus- 


1824]  TO  J.  H.  GREEN  727 

pulled  out  of  the  dust  holes,  moistened  with  cabbage- 
water,  and  other  culinary  excretions  of  the  same  kidney. 
Of  course,  I  jibbed  and  with  proper  (if  not  equa ;  yet) 
mulanimity  returned  for  answer  —  that  what  a  man's 
friends  did  sub  rosa,  and  what  one  friend  might  say  to 
another  in  favour  of  an  individual,  was  one  thing —  what 
a  man  did  in  his  own  name  and  person  was  another  —  and 
that  I  would  not,  could  not,  solicit  a  single  vote.  I 
should  think  it  an  affrontive  interference  with  a  decision, 
in  which  there  ought  to  be  neither  ground  or  motive,  but 
the  elector's  own  judgement,  and  conscience,  and  all  for 
what  ?  It  is  hard  if,  in  the  same  time  as  I  could  prodiice 
an  essay  of  the  sort  required,  I  could  not  get  the  same 
sum  by  compiling  a  school-book. 

However,  I  fear,  that  having  allowed  my  name,  at 
Montagu's  instance,  to  be  proposed,  which  it  was  by  a 
Mr.  Jerdan  (N.  B.  Neither  the  one  siib  cubili,  nor  that 
in  Palestine  ;  but  the  Jerdan  of  Michael's  Grove,  Bromp- 
ton.  No.  1),  I  cannot  now  withdraw  my  name  without 
appearing  to  trijle  with  my  friends,  and  without  hurting 
Montagu  —  so  I  must  submit  to  the  probability  of  being 
black-balled  as  the  penalty  of  having  given  my  assent 
before  I  had  ascertained  the  conditions.  So  I  have 
decided  to  let  the  thing  take  its  own  course.  But  as 
Montagu  wishes  to  have  Mr.  Chantrey's  vote  for  lis,  if 
you  see  and yec?  no  objection  (an  objectiiuicula  will  be 
quite  sufficient),  you  will  perhaps  write  him  a  line  to 
state  the  circumstances.  It  comes  on  on  Thiu'sday 
next. 

I  look  forward  with  a  feel  of  regeneration  to  the 
Sundays. 

My  best  and  most  affectionate  respects  to  Mrs.  J. 
Green,  and  to  your  dear  and  excellent  mother  if  she  be 
with  you. 

And  till  we  meet,  may  God  bless  you  and  your  obliged 
and  sincere  friend, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 


728  THE  rillLOSOPIIER  AND  DIVINE  [Nov. 


CCXXXV.   TO   THE    SAME. 

^DES   NEMOKOSiE,   APUD    PORT*'    AlTAM, 

May  19,  1824. 

Mr.  S.  T.  Coleridge,  F.  R.  S.  L.,  R.  A.,  H.  M.,  P.  S.  B., 
etc.,  etc.,  has  the  honour  of  avowing  the  high  gratification 
he  will  receive  should  any  answer  from  him  be  thought 
"  to  oblige  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields."  A^'hen  he  reflects  in- 
deed on  their  many  and  cogent  claims  on  his  admiration 
and  gratitvide,  what  a  Fund  of  Literature  they  contain, 
what  a  Royal  Society,  what  Royal  Associates  —  not  to 
speak  of  those  as  yet  in  the  e^g  of  futurity,  the  unhatched 
Decemvirate  and  Spes  Altera  Phoebi !  What  a  royal 
College,  where  philosophy  and  eloquence  unite  to  display 
their  fresh  and  vernal  green !  what  a  conjunction  of  the 
Fine  Arts  with  the  Sciences,  Law  and  Physique,  Glos- 
surgery  and  Chirurgery  !  when  he  remembers  that  if  the 
Titanic  Roc  should  take  up  the  Great  Pyramid  in  his 
beak,  and  drop  the  same  with  due  skill,  the  L.  I.  F. 
would  fit  as  cup  to  ball,  bone  to  bone ;  though  if  S.  T.  C. 
might  dare  advise  so  great  and  rare  a  bird,  the  precious 
transport  should  be  let  fall  point  downwards,  and  thus 
prevent  the  adulteration  of  their  intellectual  splendours 
with  "  the  light  of  common  day,"  while  a  duplicate  of  the 
Elysium  below  might  be  reared  on  its  ample  base  in  mid 
air — (ah!  if  a  duplicate  of  No.  22  could  be  found)!  — 
when  S.  T.  C.  ponders  on  these  proud  merits,  what  is 
there  he  would  not  do  to  "  oblige  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields  "  ? 
In  vain  does  Gillman  talk  of  a  stop  being  put  thereto! 
Between  oblige  and  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields  continuity  alone 
can  intervene  for  the  heart's  eye  of  their  obliged  and 
counter-obliffinff 

S.  T.  Coleridge, 
who,  with  his  friends  Mr.  and  Mrs.  G.,  will,  etc.,  on  June 
3rd. 

J.  II.  Green,  Esq.,  22,  Liucoln's  Inn  Fields. 


1824]  TO  JAMES  GILLMAN  729 

CCXXXVI.    TO   JAMES   GILLMAN. 

Ramsgate,  November  2,  1824. 

My  dear  Friend,  — That  so  much  longer  an  interval 
has  passed  between  this  and  my  last  letter  you  will  not,  I 
am  sure,  attribute  to  any  correspondent  interval  of  obli- 
vion. I  do  not,  indeed,  think  that  any  two  hours  of  any 
one  day,  taken  at  sixteen,  have  elapsed  in  which  you, 
past  or  future,  or  myself  in  connection  with  you,  were  not 
for  a  longer  or  shorter  space  my  uppermost  thought. 
But  the  two  days  following  James's  safe  arrival  by  the 
coach  I  was  so  depressively  unwell,  so  unremittingly 
restless,  etc.,  and  so  exhausted  by  a  teasing  cough,  and 
by  two  of  these  bad  nights  that  make  me  moan  out,  "  O 
for  a  sleep  for  sleep  itself  to  rest  in  ! "  that  I  was  quite 
disqualified  for  writing.  And  since  then,  I  have  been 
waiting  for  the  Murrays  to  take  a  parcel  with  them,  who 
were  to  have  gone  on  Monday  morning.  But  again  not 
hearing  from  them,  and  remembering  your  injunction  not 
to  mind  postage,  I  have  resolved  that  no  more  time  shall 
pass  on  and  should  have  written  to-day,  even  though  Mrs. 
Gillman  had  not  been  dreaming  about  you  last  night,  and 
about  some  letter,  etc.  Upon  my  seriousness,  I  do  de- 
clare that  I  cannot  make  out  certain  dream-devils  or 
damned  souls  that  play  pranks  with  me,  whenever  by 
the  operation  of  a  cathartic  pill  or  from  the  want  of  one, 
a  ci-devant  dinner  in  its  metempsychosis  is  struggling 
in  the  lower  intestines.  I  cannot  comprehend  how  any 
thoughts,  the  offspring  or  product  of  my  own  reflection, 
conscience,  or  fancy,  could  be  translated  into  such  images, 
and  agents  and  actions,  and  am  half-tempted  (N.  B.  be- 
tween sleeping  and  waking)  to  regard  with  some  favour 
Swedenborg's  assertion  that  certain  foid  spirits  of  the 
lowest  order  are  attracted  by  the  precious  ex-viands, 
whose  conversation  the  soul  half  appropriates  to  itself, 
and  which  they  contrive  to  whisper  into  the  sensorium. 


730  THE  PHILOSOPHER  AND  DIVINE  [Dec. 

The  Honourable  Emanuel  has  repeatedly  caught  them  in 
the  fact,  in  that  part  of  the  spiritual  worhl  corresponding 
to  the  guts  in  the  world  of  bodies,  and  driven  them  away. 
I  do  not  jiass  this  Gospel ;  but  upon  my  honour  it  is  no 
bad  apocryplia.  I  am  at  present  in  my  best  sort  and 
state  of  health,  bathed  yesterday,  and  again  this  morning 
in  spite  of  the  rain,  and  in  so  deep  a  bath,  that  having 
thrown  myself  forward  from  the  first  step  of  the  machine 
ladder,  and  only  taken  two  strokes  after  my  re-immersion, 
I  had  at  least  ten  strokes  to  take  before  I  got  into  my 
depth  again,  so  that  it  is  no  false  alarm  when  those  who 
cannot  swim  are  warned  that  a  person  may  be  drowned  a 
very  few  yards  from  the  machine.  I  returned  to  fetch 
out  our  ladies  to  see  the  huge  lengthy  Columbus,  with  the 
two  steam  vessels,^  before  and  behind,  the  former  to  tow, 
and  the  latter  to,  God  knows  what.  By  aid  of  a  good 
glass,  we  saw  it  "  quite  stink"  as  the  poor  woman  said, 
the  people  on  board,  etc.  It  is  310  feet  long,  and 
50  mde,  and  looks  exactly  like  a  Brohdingiuuj  pimt^ 
and  on  our  return  we  had  (from  Mrs.  Jones)  the  "  Morn- 
ing Herald,"  with  Fauntleroy's  trial,  which  (if  he  be  not 
a  treble-damned  liar)  completely  bears  out  my  assertion 
that  nothing  short  of  a  miracle  could  acquit  the  partners 
of  virtual  accompliceship ;  this  on  my  old  principle,  that 
the  absence  of  what  ought  to  have  been  present  is  all  but 
equivalent  to  the  presence  of  what  ought  to  have  been 
absent.  Qui  non  prohibet  quod  prohibere  jjotest  et  debet, 
facit. 

Sir  Alexander  Johnston  ^  has  payed  me  great  attention. 

»  Like  those  trim  skiffs,  unknown  of  yore  2  gjj.  Alexander  Johnston,    1775- 

On  winding  lake,  or  rivers  wide,  lo^a       i  i       •      i  v  i.       tt 

_,   ,     ,  .,    ,     .,  '  lo4;»,  a  learned  orientalist.     He  was 

That  ask  no  aid  of  sail  or  oar,  . 

Tliat  fear  no  spite  of  wind  or  tide.  Advocate  General  (afterwards  Chief 

Justice)  of  Ceylon,  and  had  much  to 

"  Youth  and  Ag'e,"  11.  12-1.5.     Poet-  do   with    the   reorg-anisatioii   of    the 

ical  Works,  p.  101.      A  MS.  copy  of  constitution  of  the  island.     He  was 

"  Youth  and  Afje  "  in  my  possession,  one   of  the   founders  of  the  Royal 

of  which  the  probable  date  is  1822,  Asiatic  Society.    Diet,  of  Nat.  liiog. 

reads  "  boats  "  for  "  skiffs."  art.  "  Johnston,  Sir  Alexander." 


1824]  TO  H.   F.  GARY  731 

There  Is  a  Lady  Johnston  not  unlike  Miss  Sara  Hutchin- 
son in  face  and  mouth,  only  that  she  is  taller.  Sir  A. 
himself  is  a  fine  gentlemanly  man,  young-looking  for  his 
age,  and  with  exception  of  one  not  easily  describable 
motion  of  his  head  that  makes  him  look  as  if  he  had  been 
accustomed  to  have  a  pen  behind  his  ear,  a  sort  of  "  Tor- 
ney's  "  clerk  look,  he  might  remind  you  of  J.  Hookham 
Frere.  He  is  a  sensible  well-informed  man,  specious  in 
no  bad  sense  of  the  word,  but  (I  guess)  not  much  dej^th. 
In  all  probability,  you  will  see  him.  We  have  talked  a 
good  deal  together  about  you  and  me,  and  me  and  you, 
in  consequence  of  occasion  given.  Sir  A.  is  one  of  the 
leading  men  in  our  Royal  Society  of  Literature,  and  be- 
yond doubt,  a  man  of  influence  in  town.  I  am  apt  to 
forget  superfluities,  but  a  voice  from  above  asks,  "if  I 
have  said  that  we  begin  to  be  anxious  to  hear  from  you." 
But  probably  before  you  can  sit  down  to  answer  this,  you 
will  have  received  another,  and,  I  flatter  myself,  more 
amusing,  at  least  pleasure -giving  Scripture  from  me. 
(N.  B.  "  Coleridge's  Scriptures  "  —  a  new  title.) 

[No  signature.] 

CCXXXVII.     TO    THE   REV.    H.    F.    CART. 

HiGHGATE,  Monday,  December  14,  1824. 

My  dear  Friend,  —  The  gentleman,  Mr.  Gabriel 
Rossetti,^  whose  letter  to  you  I  enclose,  is  a  friend  of  my 
friend,  Mr.  J.  H.  Frere,  with  whom  he  lived  in  habits  of 
intimacy  at  Malta  and  Naples.  He  seems  to  me  what 
from  Mr.  Frere's  high  opinion  of  him  I  should  have  confi- 
dently anticipated,  a  gentleman,  a  scholar,  and  a  man  of 
talents.     The  nature  of  his  request  you  will  learn  from 

1  Gabriele     Rossetti,     1783-1854,  as  a   commentator  on  Dante.      He 

the  fathor  of  Dante  G.  Rossetti,  etc.,  presented  Coloridge  with  a  copy  of 

first  visited  England  as  a  political  ex-  his  work,  Dello   Spirito   Antipapale 

ileinl824.   In  1830  he  was  appointed  che  Produsse  la  Riforma,  and  some 

Professor  of  the  Italian  language  at  of  his  verses  in  MS.,  which  are  in  ray 

King's  College.     He  is  best  known  possession. 


732  THE  PHILOSOPHER  AND  DIVINE  [1825 

the  letter,  namely,  a  perusal  of  his  Mauiisciii)t  on  the 
spirit  of  Daute  and  the  mechanism  and  interpretation  of 
the  "  Divina  Commedia,"  of  which  he  believes  himself  to 
have  the  filum  Ariadneum  in  his  hand,  and  a  frank  opin- 
ion of  the  merits  of  his  labours.  ]My  dear  friend !  I 
know  by  experience  what  is  asked  in  this  twofold  request, 
and  that  the  weight  increases  in  proportion  to  the  kind- 
ness and  sensibility  and  the  shrinking-  from  the  infliction 
of  pain  of  the  person  on  whom  it  is  enjoined.  The  name 
of  Mr.  John  Hookham  Frere  would  alone  have  sufficed  to 
make  me  undertake  this  office,  had  the  request  been 
directed  to  myself.  It  would  have  been  my  duty.  But  I 
would  not,  knowing  your  temper  and  habits  and  avoca- 
tions, have  sought  to  engage  you,  or  even  have  put  you 
to  the  discomfort  of  excusing  yourself  had  I  not  been 
strongly  impressed  by  Mr.  Rossetti's  manners  and  con- 
versation with  the  belief  that  the  interests  of  literature 
are  concerned,  and  that  Mr.  Rossetti  has  a  claim  on  all 
the  services  which  the  sons  of  the  Muses,  and  more  par- 
ticularly the  cultivators  of  ancient  Italian  Literature, 
and  most  particularly  Dante's  "  English  Duplicate  and 
Re-incarnation "  can  render  him.  If  your  health  and 
other  duties  allow  your  accession  to  this  request  (for  the 
recommendation  of  the  work  to  the  booksellers  is  quite 
a  secondary  consideration,  of  minor  importance  in  Mr. 
Rossetti's  estimation,  and  I  have,  besides,  ex])lained  to 
him  how  very  limited  our  influence  is),  you  will  be  so 
good  as  to  let  me  hear  from  you,  and  where  and  when 
Mr.  Rossetti  might  wait  on  you.  He  will  be  happy  to 
attend  you  at  Chiswick.  He  understands  English,  and, 
he  speaking  Italian  and  I  our  own  language,  we  had  no 
difficulty  in  keeping  up  an  animated  conversation. 

Make  mine  and  all  our  cordial  remembrances  to  Mrs. 
Gary,  and  believe  me,  dear  friend,  with  perfect  esteem 
and  most  affectionate  regard,  yours, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 


1824]  TO   WILLIAI^l  WORDSWORTH  733 

P.  S.  Both  Mrs.  G.  and  myself  have  returned  much 
benefited  by  our  sea-sojourn.  Mr.  Rossetti  has,  I  find, 
an  additional  merit  in  good  men's  thoughts.  He  is  a 
poet  who  has  been  driven  into  exile  for  the  high  morale 
of  his  writings.  For  even  general  sentiments  breathing 
the  spirit  of  nobler  times  are  treasons  in  the  present 
Neapolitan  and  Holy  Alliance  Codes !  Wretches  ! !  I 
dare  even  ^;r«?/  against  them,  even  with  Da  vidian  bittei"- 
ness.  Do  not  forget  to  let  me  have  an  answer  to  this,  if 
possible,  by  next  day's  post. 

CCXXXVm.    TO   WILLIAM   WORDSWOETH. 

Monday  Niglit,  ?  1824  ?  1829. 
Dear  Wordsworth, — Three  whole  days  the  going 
through  the  first  book  cost  me,  though  only  to  find  faidt. 
But  I  cannot  find  fault,  in  pen  and  ink,  without  thinking 
over  and  over  again,  and  without  some  sort  of  an  attempt 
to  suggest  the  alteration  ;  and,  in  so  doing,  how  soon  an 
hour  is  gone  !  so  many  half  seconds  up  to  half  minutes 
are  lost  in  leaning  back  in  one's  chair,  and  looking  up,  in 
the  bodily  act  of  contracting  the  muscles  of  the  brow  and 
forehead,  and  unconsciously  attending  to  the  sensation. 
Had  I  the  MS.  with  me  for  five  or  six  months,  so  as  to 
amuse  myself  off  and  on,  without  any  solicitude  as  to  a 
given  day,  and,  could  I  be  persuaded  that  if  as  well  done 
as  the  nature  of  the  thing  (viz.,  a  translation  of  Virgil,^ 
in  English)  renders  possible,  it  would  not  raise  but  sim- 
ply   sustain   your   well-merited    fame    for    pure   diction, 

1  From  the  letter  of  Wordsworth  to  Allsop,  of  April  8, 1824,  tells  us  that 

Lord  Lonsdale,  of  February  5,  1819,  the    three  books   had  been  sent   to 

it  is  plain  that  the  translation  of  three  Coleridge  and  must  have  remained 

books  of  the  ^'Eneid  had  been  already  in    his    possession    for    some    time, 

completed  at  that  date.    Another  let-  The  MS.  of  this  translation  apiMjai-s 

ter  written  five  years  later,  Novem-  to  have  been  lost,  but  "  one  of  the 

ber  3,  1824,  implies  that  the  work  books,"   Professor   Knight  tells  \is, 

had  been  put  aside,  and,  after  a  long  was  printed  in  the  Philolofiiral  Mu- 

interval,  reattempted.     In  the  mean  seum,  at  Cambridge,  in  1S:>2.     Life 

time  a  letter  of  Coleridge  to  Mrs.  of  W.  Wordsworth,  ii.  29&-303. 


734  THE   PHILOSOPHER  AND   DIVINE  [April 

where  what  is  not  idiom  is  never  other  than  logically 
correct,  I  doubt  not  that  the  irregularities  could  be  re- 
moved. But  I  am  liaunted  by  the  ai)prehensioii  that  I 
am  not  feeling  or  thinking  in  the  same  spirit  with  you,  at 
one  time,  and  at  another  too  much  in  the  si)irit  of  your 
writings.  Since  Milton,  I  know  of  no  poet  with  so  many 
felicities  and  unforgettable  lines  and  stanzas  as  you. 
And  to  read,  therefore,  page  after  page  without  a  single 
brilliant  note,  depresses  me,  and  I  grow  peevish  with  you 
for  having  wasted  your  time  on  a  work  so  much  below 
you,  that  you  cannot  stoop  and  take.  Finally,  my  con- 
viction is,  that  you  undertake  an  impossibility^  and  that 
there  is  no  medium  between  a  prose  version  and  one  on 
the  avowed  principle  of  compensation  in  the  widest  sense, 
that  is,  manner,  genius,  total  effect.  I  confine  myself  to 
Virgil  when  I  say  this. 

I  must  now  set  to  work  with  all  my  powers  and  thoughts 
to  my  Leighton,!  and  then  to  my  logic,  and  then  to  my 
opus  maximum !  if  indeed  it  shall  please  God  to  spare 
me  so  long,  which  I  have  had  too  many  warnings  of  late 
(more  than  my  nearest  friends  know  of)  not  to  doubt. 
My  kind  love  to  Dorothy. 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CCXXXIX.    TO   JOHN   TAYLOR   COLERIDGE. 

Geove,  Highgate,  Friday,  April  8,  1825. 

My  dear  Nephew,  —  I  need  not  tell  you  that  no 
attention  in  my  power  to  offer  shall  be  wanting  to  Dr. 
Reich.  As  a  foreigner  and  a  man  of  letters  he  might 
claim  this  in  his  own  right ;  and  tliat  he  came  from  you 
would  have  ensured  it,  even  though  he  had  been  a  French- 
man.    But  that  he  is  a  German,  and  that  you  think  him 

1  Coleridge  was  at  this  time  (1824)  gether  with   his  own  comment  and 

engaged   in   making   a  selection   of  corollaries,  were  published  as  Aids 

choice  passages  from  the  works  of  to   Jieflection,  in  1825.     See  Letter 

Archbishop     Leighton,     which,    to-  CCXXX. 


1825]  TO   JOHN   TAYLOR  COLERIDGE  735 

a  wortliy  and  deserving  man,  and  that  his  lot,  like  my 
own,  has  been  cast  on  the  bleak  north  side  of  the  moun- 
tain, make  me  reflect  with  pain  on  the  little  influence  I 
possess,  and  the  all  but  zero  o£  my  direct  means,  to  serve 
or  to  assist  him.     The  prejudices  excited  against  me  by 
Jeffrey,  combining  with  the  mistaken  notion  of  my  Ger- 
man Metaphysics  to  which  (I  am  told)  some  passages  in 
some  biographical  gossip  book  about  Lord  Byron  ^  have 
given  fresh  currency,  have   rendered  my  authority  with 
the  Trade  worse  than  nothing.     Of  the  three  schemes  of 
philosophy,  Kant's,  Fichte's,  and  Schelling's  (as  diverse 
each   from    the    other    as    those  of  Aristotle,   Zeno,  and 
Plotinus,  though    all  crushed    together   under  the  name 
Kantean  Philosophy  in  the  English  talk)  I  should  find  it 
difficult  to  select  the  one  from  which  I  differed  the  most, 
though  perfectly  easy  to  determine  which  of   the  three 
men  I   hold  in  highest  honour.      And  Immanuel   Kant 
I  assuredly  do   value  most  highly ;    not,  however,  as  a 
metaphysician,  but  as  a  logician  who  has  completed  and 
systematised  what  Lord  Bacon  had  boldly  designed  and 
loosely  sketched  out  in  the  Miscellany  of  Aphorisms,  his 
Novum    Organum.        In  Kant's  "  Critique  of   the  Pure 
Reason  "  there  is  more  than  one  fundamental  error  ;  but 
the  main  fault  lies  in  the  title-page,  which  to  the  manifold 
advantage    of   the    work    might   be  exchanged  for  "  An 
Inquisition  respecting  the  Constitution  and  Limits  of  the 
Ilimian  Understanding."  I  can  not  only  honestly  assert,  but 
I  can  satisfactorily  prove  by  reference  to  writings  (Let- 
ters, Marginal  Notes,  and  those  in  books  that  have  never 
been  in  my  possession  since  I  first  left  England  for  Ham- 
burgh, etc.)  that  aU  the  elements,  the  differentials,  as  the 
algebraists  say,  of  my  present  opinions  existed  for  me 
before  I  had  even  seen  a  book  of  German  Metajihysics, 
later  than  "Wolf  and  Leibnitz,  or  could  have  read  it,  if  I 
had.     But  what  will  this  avail  ?     A  High  German  Tran- 

1  Conversations  of  Lord  Byron,  etc.,  by  Captain  Medwin. 


736  THE  PHILOSOPHER  AND  DIVINE  [April 

scendentalist  I  must  be  content  to  remain,  and  a  young 
American  painter,  Leslie  (pnpil  and  friend  of  a  very 
dear  friend  of  mine,  Allston),  to  whom  I  have  been  in 
the  habit  for  ten  years  and  more  of  shewing  as  cordial 
regards  as  I  could  to  a  near  relation,  has,  I  find,  intro- 
duced a  portrait  of  me  in  a  picture  from  Sir  W.  Scott's 
"  Anti(piary,"  as  Dr.  Duster  Swivil,  or  whatever  his 
name  is.^  Still,  however,  I  will  make  any  attempt  to 
serve  Dr.  Reich,  which  he  may  point  out  and  which,  I  am 
not  sure,  would  dis-serve  him  !  I  do  not,  of  course,  know 
what  command  he  has  over  the  Enolish  lanouaoe.  If  he 
wrote  it  fluently,  I  should  think  that  it  woiUd  answer  to 
any  one  of  our  great  publishers  to  engage  him  in  the 
translation  of  the  best  and  cheapest  Natural  History  in 
existence,  viz.,  Okens,  in  three  thick  octavo  volumes,  con- 
taining the  inorganic  world,  and  the  animals  from  the 
IIpwTo'CMa  and  animalcula  of  Infusions,  to  man.  The 
Botany  was  not  published  two  years  ago.  Whether  it  is 
now  I  do  not  know.  There  is  one  thin  quarto  of  plates. 
It  is  by  far  the  most  entertaining  as  well  as  instructive 
book  of  the  kind  I  ever  saw ;  and  with  a  few  notes  and 
the  omission  (or  castigation)  of  one  or  two  of  Oken's 
adventurous  whimsies,  would  be  a  valuable  addition  to 
our  English  literature.     So  much  for  this. 

I  will  not  disguise  from  you,  my  dearest  nephew,  that 
the  first  certain  information  of  your  having  taken  the 
"Quarterly "2  gave  me  a  pain,  which  it  required  all  my 
confidence  in  the  soundness  of  your  judgement  to  counter- 
act. I  had  long  before  by  conversation  with  experienced 
barristers  got  rid  of  all  apprehension  of  its  being  likely 
to  injure  you  professionally.     My  fears  were  directed  to 

'  The  frontispiece  of  the  second  ^  John  Taylor  Coleridge  was  ed- 

volume  of  the  Antiquary  represents  itor  of  the  Quarterly  Review  for  one 

Dr.  Uousterswivel  digging  for  trea-  year,  1825-1826.    Southey's  Life  and 

sure  in   Misticot's  grave.      The  re-  Correspondence,  v.  W4, 201,  204. '2:^>9, 

semblance  to  Coleridge  is,  perhaps,  etc.;     Letters  of  Robert  Southey,  iii. 

not  wholly  imaginary.  455,  473,  511,  514,  etc. 


1825]  TO   JOHN  TAYLOR   COLERIDGE  737 

the  invidlousness  of  the  situation,  it  being  the  notion  of 
publishers  that  without  satire  and  sarcasm  no  review  can 
obtain  or  keep  up  a  sale.  Perhaps  pride  had  some  con- 
cern in  it.  1^0)'  myself  I  have  none,  probably  because 
I  had  time  out  of  mind  given  it  up  as  a  lost  cause,  given 
myself  over,  I  mean,  a  predestined  author,  though  with- 
out a  drop  of  true  author  blood  in  my  veins.  But  a  pride  in 
and  for  the  name  of  my  father's  house  I  have,  and  those 
with  whom  I  live  know  that  it  is  never  more  than  a  dogr. 
sleep,  and  apt  to  start  up  on  the  slight  alarms.  Now, 
though  very  sillily,  I  felt  pain  at  the  notion  of  any  com- 
parisons  being  drawn  between  you  (to  whom  with  your 
sister  my  heart  pulls  the  strongest)  and  Mr.  Gifford,  even 
though  they  should  be  [to]  your  advantage ;  and  still 
more,  the  thought  that  .  .  .  Murray  should  be  or  hold  him- 
self entitled  to  have  and  express  an  opinion  on  the  subject. 
The  insolence  of  one  of  his  proposals  to  me,  viz.,  that  he 
would  publish  an  edition  of  my  Poems,  on  the  condition 
that  a  gentleman  in  his  confidence  (Mr.  Milman  !  ^  I  un- 
derstand) was  to  select,  and  make  such  omissions  and 
corrections  as  should  be  thought  advisable  —  this,  which 
offered  to  myself  excited  only  a  smile  in  which  there  was 
nothing  sardonic,  might  very  possibly  have  rendered  me 
sorer  and  more  sensitive  when  I  boded  even  an  infinites- 
imal ejusdem  farinoi  in  connection  with  you. 

But  henceforward  I  shall  look  at  the  thing  in  a  sunnier 
mood.  Mr.  Frere  is  strongly  impressed  with  the  impor- 
tance and  even  dignity  of  the  trust,  and  on  the  power 
you  have  of  gradually  giving  a  steadier  and  manlier  tone 
to  the  feelings  and  princijjles  of  the  higher  classes.  But 
I  hope  very  soon  to  converse  with  you  on  this  subject,  as 
soon  as  I  have  finished  my  Essay  for  the  Literary  Society, 

1  Henry  Hart  Milman,  1791-1808,  chiefly  as  a  poet.     His  Fall  of  Jertt- 

afterwards    celebrated   as   historian  salem  was  published  in   1820.     He 

and  divine  (Dean  of  St.  Paul's.  1S4'.I),  was  a  contributor  to  the  Quarterly 

was,    at    this     time,     distinguished  lieview. 


738  THE  nilLOSOPIIER  AND  DIVINE  [May 

(in  which  I  flatter  myself  I  have  thrown  some  light  on 
the  passages  in  Herodotus  respecting  the  derivation  of 
the  Greek  ISIythology  from  Egypt,  and  in  what  respect 
that  paragraph  respecting  Homer  and  Hesiod  is  to  be 
understood),  and  have,  likewise,  got  my  "Aids  to  Re- 
flection "  out  of  the  Press.  But  I  have  more  to  do  for 
the  necessities  of  the  day,  and  which  are  JVos  non  nobis, 
than  I  can  well  manage  so  as  to  go  on  with  my  own 
works,  though  I  work  from  morning  to  night,  as  far  as 
my  health  acbnits  and  the  loss  of  my  friendly  amanuensis. 
For  the  slowness  with  which  I  get  on  with  the  pen  in  my 
own  hand  contrasts  most  strangely  with  the  rapidity  with 
which  I  dictate.  Your  kind  letter  of  invitation  did  not 
reach  me,  but  there  was  one  which  I  ought  to  have  an- 
swered long  ago,  which  came  while  I  was  at  Ramsgate. 
We  have  had  a  continued  succession  of  illness  in  our 
family  here,  at  one  time  six  persons  confined  to  their 
beds.  I  have  been  sadly  afraid  that  we  should  lose  Mrs. 
Gilhnan,  who  would  be  a  loss  indeed  to  the  whole  neigh- 
bourhood, young  and  old.  But  she  seems,  thank  God !  to 
recover  strength,  though  slowly.  As  I  hope  to  write 
again  in  a  few  days  with  my  book,  I  shall  now  desire  my 
cordial  regards  to  Mrs.  J.  Coleridge,  and  with  my  affec- 
tionate love  to  the  little  ones. 

With  the  warmest  interest  of  affection  and  esteem,  I 
am,  my  dear  John,  your  sincere  friend, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

J.  T.  Coleridge,  Esq.,  65,  Torrington  Square. 


CCXL.    TO   THE   REV.    EDWARD   COLERIDGE. 

May  19,  1825. 

My  VERY  DEAR  Nephew,  —  You  have  left  me  under 

a  painful  and  yet  genial  feeling  of  regret,  that  my  lot  in 

life  has  hitherto  so  much  estranged  me  from  the  children 

of  the  sons  of  my  father,  that  venerable  countenance  and 


1825]  TO   EDWARD   COLERIDGE  739 

name  which  form  my  earliest  recollections  and  viahe  them 
religious.  It  is  not  in  my  power  to  express  adequately 
so  as  to  convey  it  to  others  what  a  revolution  has  taken 
place  in  my  mind  since  I  have  seen  your  sister,  and  John 
and  Henry,  and  lastly  yourself.  Yet  revolution  is  not  the 
word  I  want.  It  is  rather  the  sudden  evolution  of  a  seed 
that  had  sunk  too  deep  for  the  warmth  and  exciting  air  to 
reach,  but  which  a  casual  spade  had  turned  uj)  and  brought 
close  to  the  surface,  and  I  now  know  the  meaning  as  well 
as  feel  the  truth  of  the  Scottish  proverb,  Blood  is  thicker 
than  water. 

My  book  will  be  out  on  Monday  next,  and  Mr.  Hessey 
hopes  that  he  shall  be  able  to  have  a  copy  ready  for  me 
by  to-morrow  afternoon,  so  that  I  may  present  it  to  the 
BishojD  of  London,  whom  (at  his  own  request  Lady  B. 
tells  me)  with  his  angel-faced  wife  and  Miss  Howley  ^  I 
am  to  meet  at  Sir  George's  to-morrow  at  six  o'clock. 
There  are  many  on  whose  sincerity  and  goodness  of  heart 
I  can  rely.  There  are  several  in  whose  judgement  and 
knowledge  of  the  world  I  have  greater  trust  than  in  my 
own.  And  among  these  few  John  Coleridge  ranks  fore- 
most. It  was,  therefore,  an  indescribable  comfort  to  me 
to  hear  from  him,  that  the  first  draft  of  my  "  Aids  to  Re- 
flection," that  is,  all  he  had  yet  seen,  had  delighted  him 
beyond  measure.  I  can  with  severest  truth  declare  that 
half  a  score  flaming  panegyrical  reviews  in  as  many  works 
of  periodical  criticism  would  not  have  given  me  half  the 
pleasure,  nor  one  quarter  the  satisfaction. 

I  dine  D.  V.  on  Saturday  next  in  Torrington  Square, 
when  doubtless  we  shall  drink  your  healtli  with  a2)pr{)pri- 
ate  adjuncts.  Yesterday  I  had  to  inflict  an  hour  and 
twenty-five  miniites'  essay  full  of  Greek  and  superannu- 
ated Metaphysics   on   the  ears  of  the   Royal  Society  of 

1  Afterward  the  wife  of  Sir  George  Beaumont,  the  artist's  son  and  suc- 
cessor in  the  baronetcy. 


740  THE   PHILOSOPHER  AND  DIVINE  [July 

Literature,  the  subject  being  the  Prometheus  o£  ^schylus 
deeiphered  in  proof  and  as  instanee  of  the  connection  of 
the  Greek  Drama  with  the  Mysteries.^  "  Douce  take  it  " 
(as  Charles  Lamb  says  in  his  Superannuated  Man)  if  I 
did  not  feel  remorseful  pity  for  my  audience  all  the  time. 
For,  at  the  very  best,  it  was  a  thing  to  be  read,  not  to  read. 
God  bless  you  or  I  shall  be  too  late  for  the  post. 
Your  affectionate  uncle, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

P.  S.  I  went  yesterday  to  the  Exhibition,  and  hastily 
"  thrid  "  the  labyrinth  of  the  dense  huddle,  for  the  sole 
purpose  of  seeing  our  Bishop's  portrait,^  My  own  by  the 
same  artist  is  very  much  better,  though  even  in  this  the 
smile  is  exaggerated.  But  Fanny  and  your  mother  were 
in  raptures  with  it  while  they  too  seemed  very  cold  in 
their  praise  of  William's. 

CCXLI.     TO    DANIEL    STUART. 

Postmark,  July  9,  1825. 

My  dear  Sir,  —  The  bad  weather  had  so  far  damped 
my  expectations,  that,  though  I  regretted,  I  did  not  feel 
any  disappointment  at  your  not  coming.  And  yet  I  hope 
you  will  remember  our  Highgate  Thursday  conversation 
evenings  on  your  return  to  town ;  because,  if  you  come 
once,  I  flatter  myseK,  you  will  afterwards  be  no  unfre- 
quent  visitor. 

At  least,  I  have  never  been  at  any  of  the  town  conver- 
sazioni, literary,  or  artistical,  in  which  the  conversation 

^  Almost  the  same  sentence  with  Harper  &  Brothers,  1S53,  iv.  344- 

reg'ard  to  his  address  as  Royal  Asso-  3(55.    See,  also,  Brandl's  Tiife  of  Cole- 

ciate  occurs  in  a  letter  to  his  nephew,  ridge,  p.  301. 

John  Taylor  Colerid|je,  of  May  20,  ^  Tlie  portrait  of  William    Hart 

182").     The   "  Essay  on  the   Prome-  Coleridge,  Bishop  of  Barbadoes  and 

theus     of    ^jschylus,"    which    was  the    Leeward    Islands,  by   Thomas 

pnnted  in  Literary  Remains,  was  re-  Pliillips,  R.  A.,   is  now  in  the  Hall 

published     in     Coleridge's     Works,  of  Christ  Church,  Oxford. 


1825]  TO  DANIEL   STUART  741 

has  been  more  miscellaneous  without  degenerating-  into 
pinches.^  a  pinch  of  this,  and  a  pinch  of  that,  without  the 
least  connection  between  the  subjects,  and  with  as  little 
interest.  You  will  like  Irving  as  a  companion  and  a  con- 
verser  even  more  than  you  admire  him  as  a  preacher.  He 
has  a  vigorous  and  (what  is  always  pleasant)  a  growing 
mind,  and  his  character  is  manly  throughout.  There  is 
one  thing,  too,  that  I  cannot  help  considering  as  a  recom- 
mendation to  our  evenings,  that,  in  addition  to  a  few  ladies 
and  pretty  lasses,  we  have  seldom  more  than  five  or  six  in 
company,  and  these  generally  of  as  many  professions  or 
pursuits.  A  few  weeks  ago  we  had  present,  two  painters, 
two  poets,  one  divine,  an  eminent  chemist  and  naturalist, 
a  major,  a  naval  captain  and  voj^ager,  a  physician,  a  colo- 
nial chief  justice,  a  barrister,  and  a  baronet ;  and  this  was 
the  most  numerous  meeting  we  ever  had. 

It  woidd  more  than  gratify  me  to  know  from  you,  what 
the  impressions  are  which  my  "  Aids  to  Reflection  "  make 
on  your  judgment.  The  conviction  respecting  the  character 
of  the  times  expressed  in  the  comment  on  Aph.  vi.,  page 
147,  contains  the  aim  and  object  of  the  whole  book.  I 
venture  to  direct  your  notice  particidarly  to  the  note,  page 
204  to  207,  to  the  note  to  page  218,  and  to  the  sentences 
respecting  common  sense  in  the  last  twelve  lines  of  page 
252,  and  the  conclusion,  page  377. 

Lady  Beaumont  writes  me  that  the  Bishop  of  London 
has  expressed  a  most  favourable  opinion  of  the  book ; 
and  Blanco  AVhite  was  sufficiently  struck  with  it,  as  innne- 
diately  to  purchase  all  my  works  that  are  in  print,  and  has 
procured  from  Sir  George  Beaumont  an  introduction  to 
me.  It  is  well  I  should  have  some  one  to  speak  for  it,  for 
I  am  unluckily  ill  off  .  .  .  and  you  will  easily  see  what  a 
chance  a  poor  book  of  mine  has  in  these  days. 

Such  has  been  tlie  influence  of  the  "  Edinburgh  Re- 
view "  that  in  all  Edinburgh  not  a  single  copy  of  Words- 
worth's works  or  of  any  part  of  them  could  be  procured  a 


742  THE  PHrLOSOPIIER  AND  DIVINE  [Oct. 

few  uioiitlis  ago.  The  only  copy  Irving  saw  in  Scotland 
belonged  to  a  poor  weaver  at  Paisley,  who  prized  them  next 
to  his  Bible,  and  had  all  the  Lyrit-al  Ballads  by  heart  —  a 
fact  which  wonld  cut  Jeffrey's  conscience  to  the  bone,  if 
he  had  any.  I  give  you  my  honour  that  Jeffrey  himself 
told  me  that  lie  was  himself  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of 
Wordsworth's  poetry,  but  it  was  necessary  that  a  Review 
should  have  a  character. 

Forgive  this  egotism,  and  be  pleased  to  remember  me 
kindly  and  with  my  best  respects  to  Mrs.  Stuart,  and  with 
every  cordial  wish  and  prayer  for  you  and  yours,  be  assured 
that  I  am  your  obliged  and  affectionate  friend, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

Friday,  July  8,  1825. 

CCXLII.    TO   JAMES   GILLMAN. 

[8  Plains  of  Waterloo,  Ramsgate,] 
October  10,  182.'j. 

My  dear  Friend, — It  is  a  flat'ning  thought  that  the 
more  we  have  seen,  the  less  we  have  to  say.  In  youth 
and  early  manhood  the  mind  and  nature  are,  as  it  were, 
two  rival  artists  both  potent  magicians,  and  engaged,  like 
the  King's  daughter  and  the  rebel  genii  in  the  Arabian 
Nights'  Entertainments,  in  sharp  conflict  of  conjuration, 
each  having  for  its  object  to  turn  the  other  into  canvas  to 
paint  on,  clay  to  mould,  or  cabinet  to  contain.  For  a 
while  the  mind  seems  to  have  the  better  in  the  contest, 
and  makes  of  Nature  what  it  likes,  takes  her  lichens  and 
weather-stains  for  types  and  printers'  ink,  and  prints  maps 
and  facsimiles  of  Arabic  and  Sanscrit  MSS.  on  her  rocks ; 
composes  country  dances  on  her  moonshiny  ri})ples,  fan- 
dangos on  her  waves,  and  waltzes  on  her  eddy-pools,  trans- 
forms her  smnmer  gales  into  harps  and  harpers,  lovers' 
sighs  and  sighing  lovers,  and  her  winter  blasts  into  Pin- 
daric Odes,  Christabels,  and  Ancient  Mariners  set  to  music 
by  Beethoven,  and  in  the  insolence  of  triumph  conjures 


1825]  TO  JAMES  GILLMAN  743 

her  clouds  into  wliales  and  walruses  with  palanquins  on 
their  backs,  and  chases  the  dodging  stars  in  a  sky-hunt ! 
But  alas  !  alas  !  that  Nature  is  a  wary  wily  long-breathed 
old  witch,  tough-lived  as  a  turtle  and  divisible  as  the  polyp, 
repullulative  in  a  thousand  snips  and  cuttings,  Integra  et 
in  toto.  She  is  sure  to  get  the  better  of  Lady  Mind  in 
the  long  run  and  to  take  her  revenge  too ;  transforms  our 
to-day  into  a  canvas  dead-coloured  to  receive  the  dull,  fea- 
tureless portrait  of  yesterday :  not  alone  turns  the  mimic 
mind,  the  ci-devant  sculptress  with  all  her  kaleidoscopic 
freaks  and  symmetries !  into  clay,  but  leaves  it  such  a 
clay  to  cast  dumps  or  bullets  in  ;  and  lastly  (to  end  with 
that  which  suggested  the  beginning)  she  mocks  the  mind 
with  its  o^vn  metaphor,  metamorphosing  the  memory  into 
a  Vujninn  vitce  escritoire  to  keep  unpaid  bills  and  dun's 
letters  in,  with  outlines  that  had  never  been  filled  up, 
MSS.  that  never  went  further  than  the  title-pages,  and 
proof  sheets,  and  foul  copies  of  Watchmen,  Friends,  Aids 
to  Reflection,  and  other  stationary  wares  that  have  kissed 
the  publishers'  shelf  with  all  the  tender  intimacy  of  inos- 
culation !  Finis !  and  what  is  all  this  about  ?  Why, 
verily,  my  dear  friend !  the  thought  forced  itself  on  me, 
as  I  was  beginning  to  put  down  the  first  sentence  of  this 
letter,  how  impossible  it  would  have  been  fifteen  or  even 
ten  years  ago  for  me  to  have  travelled  and  voyaged  by 
land,  river,  and  sea  a  hundred  and  twenty  miles  with  fire 
and  water  blending  their  souls  for  my  propulsion,  as  if  I 
had  been  riding  on  a  centaur  with  a  sopha  for  a  saddle, 
and  yet  to  have  nothing  more  to  tell  of  it  than  that  we 
had  a  very  fine  day  and  ran  aside  the  steps  in  Ramsgate 
Pier  at  half-past  four  exactly,  all  having  been  well  except 
poor  Harriet,  who  during  the  middle  third  of  the  voyage 
fell  into  a  reflecting  melancholy.  .  .  .  She  looked  pathetic, 
but  I  cannot  affirm  that  I  observed  anything  sympathetic 
in  the  countenances  of  her  fellow-passengers,  which  drew 
forth  a  sigh  from  me  and  a  sage  remark  how  many  of  our 


744  THE   PHILOSOPHER  AND   DIVINE  [May 

virtues  orig-inatc  in  the  fear  of  deatli,  and  that  while  we 
flatter  ourselves  that  we  are  melting  in  Christian  sensibil- 
ity over  the  sorrows  of  our  human  brethren  and  sisteren, 
we  are  in  fact,  though  perhaps  unconsciously,  moved  at 
the  prospect  of  our  own  end.  For  who  ever  sincerely 
pities  seasickness,  toothache,  or  a  fit  of  the  gout  in  a 
lusty  good  liver  of  fifty? 

AMiat  have  I  to  say  ?  We  have  received  the  snuff,  for 
which  I  thank  your  providential  memory.  .  .  .  To  Mar- 
gate, and  saw  the  caverns,  as  likewise  smelt  the  same, 
called  on  Mr.  Bailey,  and  got  the  Novum  Organum.  In 
my  hui-ry,  I  scrambled  up  the  Blackwood  instead  of  a 
volume  of  Giovanni  Battista  Vico,  which  I  left  on  the 
table  in  my  room,  and  forgot  my  sponge  and  sponge-bag 
of  oiled  silk.  But  perhaps  when  I  sit  down  to  work,  I 
may  have  to  request  something  to  be  sent,  which  may  come 
with  them.     I  therefore  defer  it  till  then.  .  .  . 

God  bless  you,  my  dear  friend!  You  will  soon  hear 
again  from 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CCXLIII.    TO   THE   REV.    EDWARD    COLERIDGE. 

December  9,  1825. 

My  DEAR  Edward,  —  T  write  merely  to  tell  you,  that 
I  have  secured  Charles  Lamb  and  Mr.  Irving  to  meet 
you,  and  wait  only  to  learn  the  day  for  the  endeavour  to 
induce  Mr.  Blanco  White  to  join  us.  Will  you  present 
Mr.  and  ]\Irs.  Gillman's  regards  to  your  brothers  Henry 
and  John,  and  that  they  would  be  most  hajipy  if  both  or 
either  would  be  induced  to  accompany  j'ou  ? 

I  have  had  a  very  interesting  conversation  with  Irving 
this  evening  on  the  present  condition  of  the  Scottish 
Church,  the  spiritual  life  of  which,  yea,  the  very  core  he 
describes  as  in  a  state  of  ossification.  The  greater  part  of 
the  Scottish  clergy,  he  complains,  have  lost  the  ttnction  of 
their    own    church  without    acquiring  the  erudition  and 


1827]  TO   MRS.   GILLMAN  745 

accomplisliments  of  ours.  Tlieir  sermons  are  all  dry  the- 
ological arguing  and  disputing,  lifeless,  pulseless,  —  a 
ruslilisht  in  a  flesliless  skull. 

My  kindest  love  to  your  sister,  and  kisses,  prayers,  and 
blessino's  for  the  little  one. 

[S.  T.  Coleridge.] 

Thursday  midnight. 

I  almost  despair  of  John's  coming ;  but  do  persuade 
Henry  if  you  can.     I  quite  long  to  see  him  again.         ■• 

CCXLIV.      TO    MRS.    GILLMAN. 

May  3,  1827. 

My  dear  Friend,  —  I  received  and  acknowledge  your 
this  morning's  present  both  as  plant  and  symbol,  and  with 
appropriate  thanks  and  correspondent  feeling.  The  rose 
is  the  pride  of  summer,  the  delight  and  the  beauty  of  our 
gardens ;  the  eglantine,  the  honeysuclde,  and  the  jasmine, 
if  not  so  bright  or  so  ambrosial,  are  less  transient,  creep 
nearer  to  us,  clothe  our  walls,  twine  over  our  porch,  and 
haply  peep  in  at  our  chamber  window,  with  the  crested 
wren  or  linnet  within  the  tufts  wishing  good  morning  to 
us.  Lastly  the  geranium  passes  the  door,  and  in  its  hun- 
dred varieties  imitating  now  this  now  that  leaf,  odour, 
blossom  of  the  garden,  still  steadily  retains  its  own  staid 
character,  its  own  sober  and  refreshing  hue  and  fragance. 
It  deserves  to  be  the  inmate  of  the  house,  and  with  due 
attention  and  tenderness  will  live  through  the  winter 
grave  yet  cheerful,  as  an  old  family  friend,  that  makes  up 
for  the  departure  of  gayer  visitors,  in  the  leafless  season. 
But  none  of  these  are  the  myrtle  !  ^  In  none  of  tliese, 
nor  in  all  collectively,  will  the  myrtle  find  a  substitute. 

^  A  sprifj  of  this  myrtle  (or  was  presented  it  to  the  hite  Lord  Cole- 
it  a  sprig  of  myrtle  in  a  nosegay  ?)  ridge.  It  now  flourislies,  in  strong 
grew  into  a  plant.  At  some  time  af-  old  a^q,  in  a  protected  nook  outside 
ter  Coleridge's  death  it  passed  into  the  libr.ary  at  Heath's  Court,  Ottery 
the  hands  of  the  late  S.  C.  Hall,  who  St.  Mary. 


74G  THE  PHILOSOPHER  AND  DIVINE  [Jan. 

All  together  and  joining  with  them  all  the  aroma,  the 
spices,  and  the  balsams  of  the  hot-house,  yet  would  they 
be  a  sad  exchange  for  the  myrtle  !  Oh,  precious  in  its 
sweetness  is  the  rich  innocence  of  its  snow-white  blossoms ! 
And  dear  are  they  in  the  remembrance  ;  but  these  may 
pass  with  the  season,  and  wliile  the  myrtle  plant,  our  own 
myrtle  plant  remains  unchanged,  its  blossoms  are  remem- 
bered the  more  to  endear  the  faithful  bearer ;  yea,  they 
survive  invisibly  in  every  more  than  fragrant  leaf.  As 
the  flashing  strains  of  the  nightingale  to  the  yearning 
murmurs  of  the  dove,  so  the  myrtle  to  the  rose  !  He  who 
has  once  possessed  and  prized  a  genuine  myrtle  will 
rather  remember  it  under  the  cyjiress  tree  than  seek  to 
forget  it  among  the  rose  bushes  of  a  paradise. 

God  bless  you,  my  dearest  friend,  and  be  assured  that 
if  death  do  not  suspend  memory  and  consciousness,  death 
itself  will  not  deprive  you  of  a  faithful  participator  in  all 
your  hopes  and  fears,  affections  and  solicitudes,  in  your 
unalterable 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CCXLV.     TO   THE   REV.    GEORGE  MAY   COLERIDGE. 

Monday,  January  14,  1828. 
My  dear  Nepheav,  —  An  interview  with  your  cousin 
Henry  on  Saturday  and  a  note  received  from  him  last 
night  had  enabled  me  in  some  measure  to  prepare  my  mind 
for  the  awful  and  humanly  afflicting  contents  of  your 
letter,  and  I  rose  to  the  receiving  of  it  from  earnest  sup- 
lication  to  "  the  Father  of  Mercies  and  God  of  all  Com- 
fort "  —  that  He  would  be  strong  in  the  weakness  of  His 
faithful  servant,  and  his  effectual  helper  in  the  last  con- 
flict. My  first  impulse  on  reading  your  letter  was  to  set 
off  innnediately,  but  on  a  re-perusal,  I  doubt  whether  I 
shall  not  better  comply  with  your  suggestion  by  waiting 
for  your  next.  Assuredly,  if  God  permit  I  will  not  forego 
the  claim,  which  my  heart  and  conscience  justify  me  in 


Rev.  George  Coleritige 


1828]  TO   GEORGE   MAY   COLERIDGE  747 

making,  to  be  one  among  the  mourners  who  ever  truly 
loved  and  honoured  your  father.  Allow  me,  my  dear 
nephew,  in  the  swelling  grief  of  my  heart  to  say,  that  if 
ever  man  morning  and  evening  and  in  the  watches  of  the 
night  had  earnestly  intreated  through  his  Lord  and  Medi- 
ator, that  God  would  shew  him  his  sins  and  their  sinful- 
ness, I,  for  the  last  ten  years  at  least  of  my  life,  have  done 
so !  But,  in  vain,  have  I  tried  to  recall  any  one  moment 
since  my  quitting  the  University,  or  any  one  occasion,  in 
which  I  have  either  thought,  felt,  spoken,  or  intentionally 
acted  of  or  in  relation  to  my  bi'other,  otherwise  than  as 
one  who  loved  in  him  father  and  brother  in  one,  and  who 
independent  of  the  fraternal  relation  and  the  remem- 
brance of  his  manifold  goodness  and  kindness  to  me  from 
boyhood  to  early  manhood  should  have  chosen  him  above 
all  I  had  known  as  the  friend  of  my  inmost  soul.  Never 
have  man's  feeling  and  character  been  more  cruelly  mis- 
represented than  mine.  Before  God  have  I  sinned,  and 
I  have  not  hidden  my  offences  before  him;  but  He  too 
knows  that  the  belief  of  my  brother's  alienation  and  the 
grief  that  I  was  a  stranger  in  the  house  of  my  second 
father  has  been  the  secret  wound  that  to  this  hour  never 
closed  or  healed  up.  Yes,  my  dear  nephew  !  I  do  grieve, 
and  at  this  moment  I  have  to  struggle  hard  in  order  to 
keep  my  spirit  in  tranquillity,  as  one  who  has  long  since 
referred  his  cause  to  God,  through  the  grief  at  my  little 
communication  with  my  family.  Had  it  been  otherwise, 
I  might  have  been  able  to  shew  myself,  my  tvliole  self, 
for  evil  and  for  good  to  my  brother,  and  often  have  said 
to  myself,  "  How  fearful  an  attribute  to  sinful  man  is 
Omniscience  I  "  and  yet  have  I  earnestly  wished,  oh,  how 
many  times !  that  my  brotlier  could  have  seen  my  inmost 
heart,  with  every  thought  and  every  frailty.  But  his 
reward  is  nigh  :  in  the  light  and  love  of  his  Lord  and 
Saviour  he  will  soon  be  all  light  and  love,  and  I  too  shall 
have  his  prayers  before  the  throne.     ^lay  the  Almighty 


748  THE  PHILOSOPHER  AND  DIVINE  [June 

and  the  Si)irit  the  Comforter  dwell  in  your  and  your 
mother's  spirit.  I  must  conclude.  Only,  if  I  come  and 
it  should  please  God  that  your  dear  father  shall  be  still 
awaiting  his  Kedeemer's  final  call,  I  shall  be  perfectly  sat- 
isfied in  all  things  to  be  directed  by  you  and  your  mother, 
who  will  judge  best  whether  the  knowledge  of  my  arrival 
thousih  without  seeing  him  would  or  would  not  be  a  satis- 
faction,  would  or  would  not  be  a  disturbance  to  him. 

Your  affectionate  uncle, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

Grove,  Higligate. 

Rev.  Gkorgk  May  Coleridgk, 

Warden  House,  Ottery  St.  Mary,  Devon. 

CCXLVI.     TO   GEORGE   DYER.^ 

June  6,  1828. 
My  dear  long  known,  and  long  loved  friend,  —  Be 
assured  that  neither  Mr.  Irving  nor  any  other  person, 
high  or  low,  gentle  or  simple,  stands  higher  in  my  esteem 
or  bears  a  name  endeared  to  me  by  more  interesting  recol- 
lections and  associations  than  youi-self  ;  and  if  gentle  man 
or  gentle  woman,  taking  too  literally  the  ])artial  portraiture 
of  a  friend,  has  a  mind  to  see  the  old  lion  in  his  sealed 
cavern,  no  more  potent  "  Open,  Sesame,  Open  "  will  be 
found  than  an  introduction  from  George  Dyer,  my  elder 
bi'other  under  many  titles  —  brother  Blue,  brother  Gre- 
cian, brother  Cantab,  brother  Poet,  and  last  best  form  of 

^  George  Dyer,  1755-1841,  best  with  Lamb  and  Southey.  He  con- 
remembered  as  the  author  of  The  tributed  "  The  Show,  an  English 
History  of  the  University  of  Cam-  Eclogue,"  and  other  poems,  to  the 
bridge,  and  a  companion  work  on  Annual  Anthology  of  17!)9  and 
The  Privileges  of  the  University  of  1800.  His  poetry  was  a  constant 
Cambridge,  began  life  as  a  Baptist  source  of  amused  delight  to  Lamb 
minister,  but  settled  in  London  as  and  Coleridge.  A  pencil  sketch  of 
a  man  of  letters  in  1792.  As  a  Dyer  by  Matilda  Betham  is  in  the 
"  brother-Grecian  "  he  was  intro-  British  Museum.  Letters  of  Charles 
duced  to  Coleridge  in  1794,  in  the  Lamb,  i.  125-128  et  passim ;  South- 
early  days  of  pantisocracy,  and  prob-  ey^s  Life  and  Correspondence,  1.218 
ably  through  him  became  intimate  et  passim. 


1828]  TO  GEORGE  DYER  749 

fraternity,  a  man  who  has  never  in  his  long  life,  by  tongue 
or  pen,  uttered  what  he  did  not  believe  to  be  the  truth 
(from  any  motive)  or  concealed  what  he  did  conceive 
to  be  such  from  other  motives  than  those  of  tenderness 
for  the  feelings  of  others,  and  a  conscientious  fear  lest 
what  was  truly  said  might  be  falsely  interpreted,  —  in 
all  these  points  I  dare  claim  brotherhood  with  my  old 
friend  (not  omitting  grey  hairs,  which  are  venerable),  but 
in  one  point,  the  long  toilsome  life  of  inexhaustible,  un- 
sleeping benevolence  and  beneficence,  that  slept  only  when 
there  was  no  form  or  semblance  of  sentient  life  to  awaken 
it,  George  Dyer  must  stand  alone !  He  may  have  a  few 
second  cousins,  but  no  full  brother. 

Now,  with  regard  to  your  friends,  I  shall  be  happy  to 
see  them  on  any  day  they  may  find  to  suit  their  or  your 
convenience,  from  twelve  (I  am  not  ordinarily  visible 
before,  or  if  the  outward  man  were  forced  to  make  his 
appearance,  yet  from  sundry  bodily  infirmities,  my  soul 
would  present  herself  with  unwashed  face)  till  four,  that 
is,  after  Monday  next,  —  we  having  at  present  a  servant 
ill  in  bed,  you  must  perforce  be  content  with  a  sandwich 
lunch  or  a  glass  of  wine. 

But  if  you  could  make  it  suit  you  to  take  your  tea,  an 
early  tea,  at  or  before  six  o'clock,  and  spend  the  evening, 
a  long  evening,  with  us  on  Thursday  next,  Mr.  and  iSIrs. 
Gilhuan  will  be  most  happy  to  see  you  and  Mrs.  Dyer, 
with  your  friends,  and  you  will  probably  meet  some  old 
friend  of  yours.  On  Thursday  evening,  indeed,  at  any 
time,  between  half -past  five  and  eleven,  you  may  be  sure 
of  findinjT  us  at  liome,  and  with  a  very  fair  chance  of 
Basil  Montagu  taking  you  and  Mrs.  Dyer  back  in  his 
coach. 

I  have  long  owed  you  a  letter,  and  should  have  long 
since  honestly  paid  my  debt ;  but  we  have  had  a  house  of 
sickness.  My  own  health,  too,  has  been  very  crazy  and 
out  of  repair,  and  I  have  had  so  much  work  accumu- 


760  THE  PIIILOSOniER  AND  DIVINE  [June 

latecl  on  me  that  I  have  been  like  an  overtired  inau 
roused  from  insufficient  sleep,  who  sits  on  his  bedside 
with  one  stocking  on  and  the  other  in  his  hand,  doing 
nothing,  and  thinking  what  a  deal  he  has  to  do. 

But  I  am  ever,  sick  or  well,  weary  or  lively,  my  dear 
Dyer,  your  sincere  and  affectionate  friend, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CCXLVII.  TO  GEORGE  CATTERMOLE.^ 

Gkove,  Highgate,  Thursday,  August  14,  1828. 

My  DEAR  Sir,  —  I  have  but  this  moment  received 
yours  of  the  13th,  and  though  there  are  but  ten  minutes 
in  my  power,  if  I  am  to  avail  myself  of  this  day's  post,  I 
will  rather  send  you  a  very  brief  than  not  an  immediate 
answer.  I  shall  be  much  gratified  by  standing  beside  the 
baptismal  font  as  one  of  the  sponsors  of  the  little  pilgrim 
at  his  inauguration  into  the  rights  and  duties  of  Immor- 
tality, and  he  shall  not  want  my  prayers,  nor  aught  else 
that  shall  be  within  my  power,  to  assist  him  in  becoming 
that  of  which  the  Great  Sponsor  who  brought  light  and 
immortality  into  the  world  has  declared  him  an  emblem. 

There  are  one  or  two  points  of  character  belonging  to 
me,  so,  at  least,  I  believe  and  trust,  which  I  would  gladly 
communicate  with  the  name,  —  earnest  love  of  Truth  for  its 
own  sake,  and  steadfast  convictions  grounded  on  faith,  not 
fear,  that  the  religion  into  which  I  was  baptised  is  the 
Truth,  without  which  all  other  knowledge  ceases  to  merit 
the  appellation.     As  to  other  things,  which  yet  I  most  sin- 

1  George  Cattermole,  1800-1868,  to  Catterraole."     His  brother  Richard 

whose  "  peculiar  gifts  and  powerful  was  Secretary  of  the  Royal  Society 

genius  "  Mr.  Ruskin  has  borne  tes-  of  Literature,  of  whicli  Coleridge  was 

timony,  was  eminent  as  an  arcliitec-  appointed  a  Royal  Associate  in  1825. 

tural  draughtsman  and  water-colour  Copies  of  this  and  of  other  letters 

painter.     With  his  marvellous  illus-  from  Coleridge  to  Cattermole  were 

trations    of    '"  Master    Humphrey's  kindly  placed  at  my  disposal  by  Mr. 

Clock"  all   the   world  is  familiar.  James  M.   Menzies   of   24,   Carlton 

Diet,   of  Nat.    Bio<j.   art.   "  George  Hill,  St.  John's  Wood. 


1830]  TO   J.   H.   GREEN  751 

cerely  wisli  for  him,  a  more  promising  augury  might  be 
derived  from  other  individuals  of  the  Coleridge  race. 

Any  day,  that  you  and  your  dear  wife  (to  whom  present 
my  kindest  remembrances  and  congratulations)  shall  find 
convenient,  will  suit  me,  if  only  you  will  be  so  good  as  to 
give  me  two  or  three  days'  knowledge  of  it. 

Believe  me,  my  dear  sir,  with  sincere  respect  and 
regard, 


Your  obliged 


S.  T.  Coleridge. 


P.  S.  I  returned  from  my  seven  weeks'  Continental 
tour  with  Mr.  Wordsworth  and  his  daughter  this  day  last 
week.  We  saw  the  Rhine  as  high  up  as  Bingen,  Holland, 
and  the  Netherlands. 

CCXLVIII.    TO    J.    H.    GREEN. 

Grove,  Highgate,  June  1,  1830. 
My  dear  Friend,  —  Do  you  happen  among  your  ac- 
quaintances and  connections  to  know  any  one  who  knows 
any  one  who  knows  Sir  Francis  Freeling  of  the  Post 
Office  sufficiently  to  be  authorised  to  speak  a  recommend- 
atory word  to  him  ?  Our  Harriet,^  whose  love  and  will- 
ing-mindedness  to  ^ne-ward  during  my  long  chain  of  bodily 
miserablenesses  render  it  my  duty  no  less  than  my  inclina- 
tion to  shew  to  her  that  I  am  not  insensible  of  her  humbly 
aifectionate  attentions,  has  applied  to  me  in  behalf  of  her 
brother,  a  young  man  who  can  have  an  excellent  character, 
from  Lord  Wynford  and  others,  for  sobriety,  integrity,  and 
discretion,  and  who  is  exceedingly  ambitious  to  get  the  sit- 
uation of  a  postman  or  deliverer  of  letters  to  the  General 
Post  Office.     Perhaps,  before  I  see  you  next,  you  will  be 

1  Harriet  Maeldin,  Coleridge's  a  due  acknowledgment  of  hor  ser- 
faithful  attendant  for  the  last  seven  vices.  It  was  to  her  that  Lamb, 
or  eight  years  of  his  life.  On  his  when  he  visited  Highgate  after  Cole- 
deathbed  he  left  a  solemn  request  in  ridge's  death,  made  a  present  of  five 
■writing  that  his  family  should  make  guineas. 


752  THE  PHILOSOPHER  AND  DIVINE  [June 

so  good  as  to  tumble  over  the  names  of  your  acquaintances, 
and  if  any  connection  of  Sir  Francis'  should  turn  up,  to 
tell  me,  and  if  it  be  right  and  proper,  to  make  my  request 
and  its  motive. 

Dr.  Chalmers  with  his  daughter  and  his  very  pleasing 
wife  honoured  me  with  a  call  this  morning,  and  spent  an 
hour  with  me,  which  the  good  doctor  declared  on  parting 
to  have  been  "  a  refreshment  "  such  as  he  had  not  enjoyed 
for  a  long  season.^  N.  13.  —  There  were  no  sandwiches ; 
only  Mrs.  Aders  was  present,  who  is  most  certainly  a 
bonne  bouche  for  both  eye  and  ear,  and  who  looks  as 
bright  and  sunshine-showery  as  if  nothing  had  ever  ailed 
her.  The  main  topic  of  our  discourse  was  Mr.  Irving  and 
his  unlucky  phantasms  and  phantis(ras).  I  was  on  the 
point  of  telling  Dr.  Chalmers,  but  fortunately  recollected 
there  were  ladies  and  Scotch  ladies  present,  that,  while 
other  Scotchmen  were  content  with  brimstone  for  the  itch, 
Irving  had  a  rank  itch  for  brimstone,  new-sublimated  by 
addition  of  fire.     God  bless  you  and  your 

Ever  obliged  and  affectionate  friend, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

30  May  ?  or  1  June  ?  at  all  events. 
Monday  night,  11  o'clock. 

P.  S.  —  Kind  remembrances  to  Mrs.  Green.  I  con- 
tinue pretty  well,  on  the  whole,  considering,  save  the  sore- 
ness across  the  base  of  mv  chest. 

*  Dr.    Chalmers    represented   the  "  melliflnons     flow    of    discourse" 

visit  as  havin"'  lasted  three  hours,  that,  when  "  the  mnsic  ceased,  her 

and    that   durin^f   that    "stricken"  overwrong-ht   feeling-s   found    relief 

period     he      only     got     occasional  in  tears."     Samuel  Taylor  Colcrirfge, 

glimpses     of    what     the      prophet  a  Narrative,  hy  J.  Dykes  Camphell, 

"  woidd  he  at."     His  little  danjih-  1894,  p.  2G0,  footnote, 
ter,  however,  was  so  moved  by  the 


1830]  TO   THOMAS  POOLE  753 


CCXLIX.    TO   THOMAS   POOLE. 

1830. 

My  dear  Poole,  —  Mr.  Stutfield  Junr.^  lias  been  so 
kind  as  to  inform  me  of  his  father's  purposed  journey  to 
Stowey,  and  to  give  me  this  opportunity  of  writing; 
though  in  fact  I  have  little  pleasant  to  say,  except  that  I 
am  advancing  regularly  and  steadily  towards  the  comple- 
tion of  my  Opus  Magnum  on  Revelation  and  Christianity, 
the  Reservoir  of  my  reflections  and  reading  for  twenty- 
five  years  past,  and  in  health  not  painfully  worse.  I  do 
not  know,  however,  that  I  should  have  troubled  j^ou  with 
a  letter  merely  to  convey  this  piece  of  information,  but  I 
have  a  great  favour  to  request  of  you ;  that  is,  that,  sup- 
posing you  to  have  still  in  your  possession  the  two  letters 
of  the  biography  of  my  own  childhood  which  I  wrote  at 
Stowey  for  you,  and  a  copy  of  the  letter  from  Germany 
containing  the  account  of  my  journey  to  the  Harz  and  my 
ascent  of  Mount  Brocken,  you  would  have  them  tran- 
scribed, and  send  me  the  transcript  addressed  to  me, 
James  Gillman's  Esq.,  Highgate,  London. 

0  that  riches  would  but  make  wings  for  me  instead  of 
for  itself,  and  I  would  fly  to  the  seashore  at  Porlock  and 
Lynmouth,  making  a  good  halt  at  dear,  ever  fondly  remem- 
bered Stowey,  of  which,  believe  me,  your  image  and  the 
feelino-s  and  associations  connected  therewith  constitute 
four  fifths,  to,  my  dear  Poole, 

Your  obliged  and  affectionate  friend, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

1  A  disciple  and  amanuensis,  to  in  the  possession  of  Mr.  C.  A.  Ward 
v,\mm,  it  is  believed,  he  dictated  of  Chingford  Hatch.  Samuel  Tay- 
two  quarto  volumes  on  "The  His-  lor  Coleridge,  a  Narrative,  by  J. 
tory  of  Logic  "  and  "  The  Elements  Dykes  CampbeU,  1894,  pp.  2.W,  2.il  ; 
of  Logic,"  which  originally  belonged  Athenceum,  July  1,  1893,  art.  "  Cole- 
to  Joseph  Henry  Green,  and  are  now  ridge's  Logic." 


754  THE  PHILOSOniER   AND   DIYIXE  [Dec. 

CCL.    TO   MRS.    GILLMAN. 

1830. 

Dear  Mrs.  Giloian,  —  Wife  of  the  friend  who  has 
been  more  than  a  brother  to  me,  and  who  have  month 
after  month,  yea,  hour  after  hour,  for  how  many  succes- 
sive years,  united  in  yourself  the  affections  and  offices  of 
an  anxious  friend  and  tender  sister  to  me-ward ! 

May  the  Father  of  Mercies,  the  God  of  Healtli  and  all 
Salvation,  be  your  reward  for  your  great  and  constant 
love  and  loving-kindness  to  me,  abiding  with  you  and 
within  you,  as  the  Spirit  of  guidance,  support,  and  con- 
solation !  And  may  his  Grace  and  gracious  Providence 
bless  James  and  Henry  for  your  sake,  and  make  them  a 
blessing  to  you  and  their  father !  And  though  weighed 
down  by  a  heavy  presentiment  respecting  my  own  sojourn 
here,  I  not  only  hope  but  have  a  steadfast  faith  that  God 
will  be  your  reward,  because  your  love  to  me  from  first 
to  last  has  begim  in,  and  been  caused  by,  what  appeared 
to  you  a  translucence  of  the  love  of  the  good,  the  true, 
and  the  beautiful  from  within  me,  —  as  a  relic  of  glory 
gleaming  through  the  turbid  shrine  of  my  mortal  imper- 
fections and  infirmities,  as  a  Liglit  of  Life  seen  within 
"the  body  of  this  Death," — because  in  loving  me  you 
loved  our  Heavenly  Father  reflected  in  the  gifts  and  influ- 
ences of  His  Holy  Spirit ! 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CCLI.    TO  J.    H.   GREEN. 

December  15,  1831. 
My  dear  Friend,  —  It  is  at  least  a  fair  moiety  of 
the  gratification  I  feel,  that  it  will  give  you  so  much 
pleasure  to  hear  from  me^  that  I  tacked  about  on  Monday, 
continued  in  smooth  water  during  the  whole  day,  and 
with  exceptions  of  about  an  hour's  mutterincj^  as  if  a 
storm  was    coming,    had    a    comfortable  night.       I    was 


1831]  TO   J.   H.   GREEN  755 

still  better  on  Tuesday,  and  had  no  relapse  yesterday.  I 
have  so  repeatedly  given  and  suffered  disappointment,  that 
I  cannot  even  communicate  this  gleam  of  convalescence 
without  a  little  fluttering  distinctly  felt  at  my  heart,  and 
a  sort  of  cloud-shadow  of  dejection  flitting  over  me.  God 
knows  with  what  aims,  motiv^es,  and  aspirations  I  pray  for 
an  interval  of  ease  and  competent  strength  !  One  of  my '] 
present  wishes  is  to  form  a  Letter  nomenclature  or  termi- 
nology. I  have  long  felt  the  exceeding  inconvenience  of 
the  many  different  meanings  of  the  terra  ohjective,  —  some- 
times equivalent  to  apparent  or  sensible,  sometimes  in  op- 
position to  it,  —  ex.  gr.  "  The  objectivity  is  the  rain  drops 
and  the  reflected  light,  the  iris,  is  but  an  appearance." 
Thus,  sometimes  it  means  real  and  sometimes  unreal,  and 
the  worst  is,  that  it  forms  an  obstacle  to  the  fixation  of 
the  great  truth,  that  the  perfect  reality  is  predicable 
only  where  actual  and  real  are  terms  of  identity,  that  is, 
where  there  is  no  potential  being,  and  that  this  alone  is 
absolute  reality ;  and  further,  of  that  most  fundamental 
truth,  that  the  ground  of  all  reality,  the  objective  no  less 
than  of  the  subjective,  is  the  Absolute  Subject.  How  to 
get  out  of  the  difficulty  I  do  not  know,  save  that  some 
other  term  must  be  used  as  the  antithet  to  phenomenal, 
perhaps  noumenal. 

James  Gillman  has  passed  an  unusually  strict  and  long 
examination  for  ordination  with  great  credit,  and  was 
selected  by  the  bishop  to  read  the  lessons  in  the  service. 
The  parents  are,  of  course,  delighted,  and  now,  my  dear 
friend,  with  affectionate  remembrances  to  Mrs.  Green,  may 
God  bless  you  and 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 


756  THE   PHILOSOPHER  AND  DIVINE  [Feb. 

CCLII.     TO   HENRY   NP:LS0N   COLEKIDGE.^ 

The  Guove,  February  24,  1832. 

My  dear  Nephew,  and  by  a  liiglier  tie,  Son,  I  thank  God 
I  have  this  day  been  favoured  with  such  a  mitigation  of 
the  disease  as  amounts  to  a  reprieve,  and  have  had  ease 
enough  of  sensation  to  be  able  to  think  of  wliat  you  said 
to  me  from  Loekhart,  and  the  result  is  a  wish  that  you 
should  —  that  is,  if  it  appears  right  to  you,  and  you  have 
no  objection  of  feeling — write  for  me  to  Professor  Wil- 
son, offering  the  Essays,  and  the  motives  for  the  wish  to 
have  them  republished,  with  the  authority  (if  there  be  no 
breach  of  confidence)  of  Mr.  Loekhart.  I  cannot  with 
proi^riety  offer  them  to  Fniser,  having  for  a  series  of 
years  received  "  Blackwood's  Magazine  "  as  a  free  gift  to 
me,  until  I  have  made  the  offer  to  Blackwood.  Of  course, 
my  whole  and  only  object  is  the  desire  to  see  them  put 
into  the  possibility  of  becoming  useful.     But,  oh  I  this  is 

1  Henry  Nelson  Coleridge,  1798-  speare  and  other  Dramatists,"  were 

1843,  was  the  fifth   son  of  Colonel  issued  1830-183!).    The  tliird  edition 

James  Coleridge  of  Heath's  Court,  of  The  Friend,  1837.  the  Confessions 

Ottery    St.    Mar}'.      His    marriage  of  an  Inquiring  Spirit,  \SAO,im(ith.Q 

with  the  poet's  daughter  took  place  fiftli  edition  of  Aids  to  Reflection, 

on  September  3,  1829.     He  was  the  1843,  followed  in  succession.     The 

author  of  Six  Months  in  the  West  In-  second    edition   of   the    Biographia 

dies,  1825,  and  an  Introduction  to  the  Literaria,  which  "he  had  prepared 

Study  of  the  Greek  Poets,  1830.    He  in  part,"  was  published  by  bis  widow 

practised    as   a    chancery    barrister  in  1847. 

and  won  distinction  in  his  prof  es-  A  close  study  of  the  original  docu- 
sion.  The  later  years  of  his  life  nients  which  were  at  my  uncle's  dis- 
were  devoted  to  the  reediting  of  his  posal  enables  me  to  bear  testimony 
uncle's  published  works,  and  to  to  his  editoi-ial  skill,  to  his  insight, 
throwing  into  a  connected  shape  the  his  unwearied  industry,  his  faith- 
literary  as  distinguished  from  the  fulness.  Of  the  charm  of  his  ap- 
philosophieal  section  of  his  unpub-  pearance,  and  the  brilliance  of  his 
lished  MSS.  The  Table  Talk,  the  conversation,  I  have  heard  those 
best  known  of  Coleridge's  prose  who  knew  him  speak  with  enthu- 
works,  appeared  in  183.5.  Four  siasra.  He  died,  from  an  affection 
volumes  of  Literary  Remains,  in-  of  the  spine,  in  January,  1843. 
eluding  the  "  Lectures  on  Shake- 


1832]  TO   HENRY   NELSON   COLERIDGE  757 

a  faint  desire,  my  dear  Henry,  compared  with  that  of  see- 
ing a  fair  abstract  of  the  principles  I  have  advanced 
respecting  the  National  Church  and  its  revenue,  and  the 
National  Clerisy  as  a  co(5rdinate  of  the  State,  in  the 
minor  and  antithetic  sense  of  the  term  State  ! 

I  almost  despair  of  the  Conservative  Party,  too  truly,  I 
fear,  and  most  ominously,  self-designated  Tories,  and  of 
course  half-truthmen  I  One  main  omission  both  of  senators 
and  writers  has  been,  ws  c/xoiye  SoKet,  that  they  have  forgot- 
ten to  level  the  axe  of  their  argument  at  the  root,  the  true 
root,  yea,  trunk  of  the  delusion,  by  pointing  out  the  true 
nature  and  operation  and  modus  operandi  of  the  taxes 
in  the  first  instance,  and  then  and  not  till  then  the  utter 
groundlessness,  the  absurdity  of  the  presumption  that  any 
House  of  Commons  formed  otherwise,  and  consisting  of 
other  men  of  other  ranks,  other  views  or  with  other  inter- 
ests, than  the  present  has  been  for  the  last  twenty  years 
at  least,  would  or  could  (from  any  imaginable  cause)  have  a 
deeper  interest  or  a  stronger  desire  to  diminish  the  taxes, 
as  far  as  the  abolition  of  this  or  that  tax  woidd  increase 
the  ability  to  pay  the  remainder.  For  what  are  taxes  but 
one  of  the  forms  of  circulation?  Some  a  nation  must 
have,  or  it  is  no  nation.  But  he  that  takes  ninepence  from 
me  instead  of  a  shilling,  but  at  the  same  time  and  by  this 
very  act  prevents  sixpence  from  coming  into  my  pocket,  — 
am  I  to  thank  him  ?  Yet  such  are  the  only  thanks  that 
Mr.  Hume  and  the  Country  Squires,  his  cowardly  back- 
clapping  flatterers,  can  fairly  claim.  In  my  opinion,  Hume 
is  an  incomparably  more  mischievous  being  than  O'Con- 
nell  and  the  gang  of  agitators.  They  are  mere  symptom- 
atic and  significative  effects,  the  roars  of  the  inwardly 
agitated  mass  of  the  popular  sea.  But  Hume  is  a  ferment- 
ing virus.  But  I  must  end  my  scrawl.  God  bless  my  dear 
Sara.     Give  my  love  to  Mrs.  C.  and  kiss  the  baby  for 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

H.  N.  Coleridge,  Esq.,  1,  New  Court,  Lincoln's  Inn. 


758  THE  nilLOSOPIIER  AND  DIVINE        [March 

CCLIII.     TO   MISS   LAWRENCE.! 

March  22,  1832. 

My  dear  Miss  Lawrence, — You  and  dear^dear  Mrs. 
Cromptou  are  among  the  few  sunshiny  images  that  endear 
my  past  life  to  me,  and  I  never  think  of  you  without 
heartfelt  esteem,  without  affection,  and  a  yearning  of  my 
better  being  toward  you.  I  have  for  more  than  eighteen 
months  been  on  the  brink  of  the  grave,  the  object  of  my 
wishes,  and  only  not  of  my  prayers,  because  I  commit 
myself,  poor  dark  creature,  to  an  Onniiscient  and  All- 
merciful,  in  whom  are  the  issues  of  life  and  death, — 
content,  yea,  most  thankful,  if  only  His  Grace  will  pre- 
serve within  me  the  blessed  faith  that  He  is  and  is  a  God 
that  heareth  prayers,  abundant  in  forgiveness,  and  there- 
fore to  be  feared,  no  fate^  no  God  as  imagined  by  the 
Unitarians,  a  sort  of,  I  know  not  what  laio-fjiving  Law  of 
Gravitation,  to  whom  prayer  would  be  as  idle  as  to  the 
law  of  gravity,  if  an  undermined  wall  were  falling  upon 
me ;  but  "  a  God  that  made  the  eye,  and  therefore  shall 
He  not  see?  who  made  the  ear,  and  shall  He  not  hear?  " 
who  made  the  heart  of  man  to  love  Him,  and  shall  He  not 
love  the  creature  whose  ultimate  end  is  to  love  Him?  —  a 
God  who  seeheth  that  which  was  lost,  who  calleth  back 
that  which  had  gone  astray ;  who  calleth  through  His  own 
Name  ;  Word,  Son,  from  everlasting  the  Way  and  the 
Truth  ;  and  who  became  man  that  for  poor  fallen  man- 
kind he  might  he  (not  merely  announced  but  6e)  the  Res- 
urrection and  the  L'lft^  — "  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that 
are  weary  and  heavy-laden,  and  /  will  give  you  rest  I  " 
Oh,  my  dear  Miss  Lawrence !  prize  above  all  earthly  tilings 
the  faith.  I  trust  that  no  sophistry  of  shallow  infra-socini- 
ans  has  quenched  it  within  you,  —  that  God  is  a  God  that 

'  This  ladj'  was  for  many  years  erpool.  Memoirs  and  Letters  of 
governess  in  the  family  of  Dr.  Sara  Coleridge,  London,  1873,  i.  8, 
Crompton  of  Eaton  Hall,  near  Liv-     109-116. 


Samuel  laytoi  Coleridge  at  s(> 


1832] 


TO  MISS  LAWRENCE 


759 


hearetli  prayers.  If  vai'ied  learning,  if  the  assiduous  cul- 
tivation of  the  reasoning  powers,  if  an  accurate  and 
minute  acquaintance  with  all  the  arguments  of  contro- 
versial writers ;  if  an  intimacy  with  the  doctrines  of  the 
Unitarians,  which  can  only  be  obtained  by  one  who  for  a 
year  or  two  in  his  early  life  had  been  a  convert  to  them, 
yea,  a  zealous  and  by  themselves  deemed  powerful  sup- 
porter of  their  opinions  ;  lastly,  if  the  utter  absence  of 
any  imaginable  worldly  interest  that  could  sway  or  warp 
the  mind  and  affections,  —  if  all  these  combined  can  give 
any  weight  or  authority  to  the  opinion  of  a  fellow-crea- 
ture, they  will  give  weight  to  my  adjuration,  sent  from  my 
sickbed  to  you  in  kind  love.  O  trust,  O  trust,  in  your 
Redeemer !  in  the  coeternal  Word,  the  Onl3^-begotten,  the 
living  Name  of  the  Eternal  I  AM,  Jehovah,  Jesus ! 

I  shall  endeavour  to  see  Mr.  Hamilton.^     I  doubt  not 
his  scientific  attainments.     I  have  had  proofs  of  his  taste 


2  Sir  William  Rowan  Hamilton, 
1805-1805,  the  great  mathematician, 
was  at  this  time  Professor  of  Astron- 
omy at  Dublin.  He  was  afterwards 
appointed  Astronomer  Royal  of  Ire- 
land. He  was,  as  is  well  known,  a 
man  of  culture  and  a  poet ;  and  it 
was  partly  to  ascertain  his  views  on 
scientific  questions,  and  partly  to  in- 
terest him  in  his  verses,  that  Hamil- 
ton was  anxious  to  be  made  kno^vn 
to  Coleridge.  He  had  begun  a  cor- 
respondence with  Wordsworth  as 
early  as  1827,  and  Wordsworth,  on 
the  occasion  of  his  tour  in  Ireland 
in  1829,  visited  Hamilton  at  the 
Observatory.  Miss  Lawrence's  intro- 
duction led  to  an  interview,  but  a 
letter  which  Hamilton  wrote  to  Cole- 
ridge in  the  spring  of  1832  re- 
mained unanswered.  In  a  second 
letter,  dated  February  3,  1833,  he 
speaks  of  a  "  Lecture  on  Astron- 
omy "  which  he  forwards  for  Cole- 


ridge's acceptance,  and  also  of  "  some 
love-poems  to  a  lady  to  whom  I  am 
shortly  to  be  married."  The  love- 
poems,  eight  sonnets,  which  are 
smoothly  turned  and  are  charming 
enough,  have  survived,  but  the  lec- 
ture has  disappeared.  The  interest 
of  this  remarkable  letter  lies  in  the 
double  appeal  to  Coleridge  as  a  sci- 
entific authority  and  a  literary  critic. 
Coleridge's  reply,  if  reply  there  was, 
would  be  read  with  peculiar  interest. 
In  a  letter  to  Mr.  Aubrey  de  Vere, 
May  28,  1832,  he  thus  records  his 
impressions  of  Coleridge  :  "  Coleridge 
is  rather  to  be  considered  as  a  Fac- 
ulty than  as  a  Mind ;  and  I  did  so 
consider  him.  I  seemed  rather  to 
listen  to  an  oracular  voice,  to  be  cir- 
cumfused  in  a  Divine  oii<p)},  than  — 
as  in  the  presence  of  Wordsworth  — 
to  hold  commune  with  an  exalted 
man."  Life  of  W.  Wordsworth,  iii. 
157-174,  210,  etc. 


7G0  THE  PHILOSOPHER   AND   DIVINE  [April 

and  feeling-  as  a  poet,  but  believe  me,  my  dear  Miss  Law- 
rence !  that,  should  the  cloud  of  distemper  pass  from  over 
me,  there  needs  no  other  passport  to  a  cordial  welcome 
from  me  than  a  line  from  you  importing  that  he  or  she 
possesses  your  esteem  and  regard,  and  that  you  wish  I 
should  shew  attention  to  them.  I  cannot  make  out  your 
address,  which  I  read  "  The  Grange  ; "  but  where  that  is 
I  know  not,  and  fear  that  the  Post  Office  may  be  as  igno- 
rant as  myself.  I  must  therefore  delay  the  direction  of 
my  letter  till  I  see  Mr.  Hamilton ;  but  in  all  places,  and 
independent  of  place,  I  am,  my  dear  Miss  Lawrence,  with 
most  affectionate  recollections. 

Your  friend, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

Miss  S.  Lawrence,  The  Grange,  nr.  LiverpooL 

CCLIV.     TO    THE    REV.    H.    F.    CART. 

Grove,  IIighgate,  April  22,  1832. 
My  dear  Friend,  —  For  I  am  sure  by  my  love  for 
you  that  you  love  me  too  well  to  have  suffered  my  very 
rude  and  uncourteous  vehemence  of  contradiction  and 
reclamation  respecting  your  advocacy  of  the  Catilinarian 
Reform  Bill,  when  we  were  last  together,  to  have  cooled, 
much  less  alienated  your  kindness ;  even  though  the 
interim  had  not  been  a  weary,  weary  time  of  groaning 
and  life-loathing  for  me.  But  I  hope  that  this  fearful 
night-storm  is  subsiding,  as  you  will  have  heard  from 
Mr.  Green  or  dear  Charles  Lamb.  I  write  now  to  say, 
that  if  God,  who  in  Ilis  Fatherly  compassion  and  through 
His  love  wherewith  He  hath  beheld  and  loved  me  in 
Christ,  in  whom  alone  He  can  love  the  world,  hath 
worked  almost  a  miracle  of  grace  in  and  for  me  by  a 
sudden  emancipation  from  a  thirty-three  years'  fearful 
slavery,^  if  God's  goodness  should  in  time  and  so  far  per- 

*  He  is  referring  to  a  final  effort     getlier.     It  is  needless  to  say  that, 
to  give  up  the  use  of   opium  alto-     after  a  trial  of  some  duration,  the 


1832]  TO   H.   F.   GARY  761 

feet  my  convalescence  as  that  I  should  be  capable  of 
resuming  my  literary  labours,  I  have  a  thought  by  way  of 
a  light  prelude^  a  sort  of  unstiffening  of  my  long  dormant 
joints  and  muscles,  to  give  a  reprint  as  nearly  as  possi- 
ble, except  in  quality  of  the  paper,  a  facsimile  of  John 
Asgill's  tracts  with  a  life  and  copious  notes,^  to  which  I 
would  affix  Pastilla  et  Marginalia.  See  my  MSS.  notes, 
blank  leaf  and  marginal,  on  Southey's  "  Life  of  Wes- 
ley," and  sundi-y  other  works.  Now  can  you  direct  me 
to  any  source  of  information  respecting  John  Asgill, 
a  prince  darling  of  mine,  the  most  honest  of  all  Whigs, 
whom  at  the  close  of  Queen  Anne's  reign  the  scoundrelly 
Jacobite  Tories  twice  expelled  from  Parliament,  under 
the  pretext  of  his  incomparable,  or  only-with-Rabelais- 
to-be-compared  argument  against  the  base  and  cowardly 
custom  of  ever  dying?  And  this  tract  is  a  very  treasure, 
and  never  more  usable  as  a  medicine  for  our  clergy,  at 
least  all  such  as  the  Bishop  of  London,  Archbishops  of 
Canterbury  and  of  Dublin,  the  Paleyans  and  Mageeites,^ 

attempt  was  found  to  be  inipracti-  gle,  and  into  that  "  sore  agony  "  it 
cable.  It  has  been  strenuously  de-  would  be  presumption  to  intrude ; 
nied,  as  though  it  had  been  falsely  but  to  a  moral  victory  Coleridge 
asserted,  that  under  the  Gillmans'  laid  no  claim.  And,  at  the  last, 
care  Coleridge  overcame  the  habit  it  was  "mercy,"  not  "praise,"  for 
of  taking  laudanum  in  more  or  less  which  he  pleaded, 
unusual  quantities.  Gillman,  while  ^  The  notes  on  Asgill's  Treatises 
he  maintains  that  his  patient  in  the  were  printed  in  the  Literary  Re- 
use of  narcotics  satisfied  the  claims  mains,  Coleridge's  Works,  1S.">;5,  v. 
of  duty,  makes  no  such  statement ;  54r)-.550,  and  in  Notes  Theological 
and  the  confessions  or  outpourings  and  Political,  London,  1853,  pp.  10-3- 
from  the  later  note-books  which  are  109. 

included  in  the  Life  point  to  a  dif-  ^  Admirers  of  Dr.  Magee,   1765- 

ferent   conclusion.       That  after  his  1S:]1,  who  was  successively   Bisliop 

settlement  at  Highgate,  in  1810,  the  of    Kaphoe,   1819,  and   Archbisiiop 

habit   was   regulated    and    brought  of  Dublin,  1822.     He   was  the  au- 

under  control,  and  that  this  change  thor  of  Discourses  on  the  Scriptural 

for  the  better  was  due  to  the  Gill-  Doctrines  of  the  Atonement.     He  was 

mans'   care   and    to   his    own  ever-  grandfather  of  the  late  Archbishop 

renewed  efforts  to  be  free,  none  can  of   York,  better   known   as   Bishop 

gainsay.     There  was  a  moral  strug-  of  Peterborough. 


762  THE  PHILOSOPHER  AND  DIVINE  [Aug. 

any  one  or  all  of  whom  I  would  defy  to  answer  a  single 
paragraph  of  Asgill's  tract,  or  unloose  a  single  link  from 
the  chain  of  logic.  I  have  no  biographical  dictionary, 
and  never  saw  one  but  in  a  little  sort  of  one-volume 
thing.  If  you  can  help  me  in  this,  do.  I  give  my  kind- 
est love  to  Mrs.  Gary. 

Yours,  with  unutterable  and  unuttered  love  and  regard, 
in  all  (but  as  to  the  accursed  Keform  Bill !  that  men- 
daclum  ingens  to  its  own  preamble  (to  which  no  human 
being  can  be  more  friendly  than  I  am),  that  huge  tape- 
worm He  of  some  threescore  and  ten  yards)  entire  sym- 
pathy of  heart  and  soul. 

Your  affectionate 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CCLV.   TO   JOHN  PEIRSE  KENNARD.^ 

Grove,  Highgate,  August  lo,  1832. 
My  DEAR  Sir,  —  Your  letter  has  announced  to  me  a 
loss  too  great,  too  awful,  for  common  grief,  or  any  of  its 
ordinary  forms  and  outlets.  For  more  than  an  hour 
after,  I  remained  in  a  state  which  I  can  only  describe  as 
a  state  of  deepest  mental  silence,  neither  prayer  nor 
thanksgiving,  but  a  prostration  of  absolute  faith,  as  if  the 
Omnipresent  were  present  to  me  by  a  more  special  intui- 
tion, passing  all  sense  and  all  understanding.  Whether 
Death  be  but  the  cloudy  Bridge  to  the  Life  beyond,  and 
Adam  Steinmetz  has  been  wafted  over  it  without  suspen- 
sion, or  with  an  immediate  resumption  of  self-conscious 
existence,  or  whether  liis  Life  be  hidden  in  God,  in  the 

^  I  am  indebted  to  Mr.  John  Henry  Coleridg'e  Kennard  Bart.,  M.  P.  for 
Steinmetz,  a  younger  brother  of  Sali.sbury,  and  of  Mr.  Adam  Stein- 
Coleridge's  friend  and  ardent  disci-  metz  Kennard,  of  Crawley  Conrt, 
pie,  for  a  copy  of  this  letter.  It  was  Hants,  at  whose  baptism  the  poet 
addressed,  he  informs  me,  to  his  was  present,  and  to  whom  he  ad- 
brother's  friend,  the  late  Mr.  John  dressed  tlie  well-known  letter  (Letter 
Peirse  Kennard,  of  Hordle  Cliff,  CCLX.),  "To  my  GodchUd,  Adam 
Hants,  father  of  the  late  Sir  John  Steinmetz  Kennard." 


1832]  TO  JOHN  PEIRSE  KENNARD  763 

eternal  only-begotten,  the  Pleroma  of  all  Beings  and  the 
Habitation  both  of  the  Retained  and  the  Ketrleved, 
therein  in  a  blessed  and  most  divine  Slumber  to  grow  and 
evolve  into  the  perfected  Spirit, — for  sleep  is  the  ap- 
pointed season  of  all  growth  here  below,  and  God's  ordi- 
nances in  the  earthly  may  shadow  out  his  ways  in  the 
Heavenly,  —  in  either  case  our  friend  is  in  God  and  loith 
God.  Were  it  possible  for  me  even  to  think  otherwise,^ 
the  very  grass  in  the  fields  would  turn  black  before  my 
eyes,  and  nature  appear  as  a  skeleton  fantastically  mossed 
over  beneath  the  weeping  vault  of  a  charnel  house  ! 

Deeply  am  I  persuaded  that  for  every  man  born  on 
earth  there  is  an  appointed  task,  some  remedial  process  in 
the  soul  known  only  to  the  Omniscient ;  and,  this  through 
divine  grace  fulfilled,  the  sole  question  is  whether  it  be 
needful  or  expedient  for  the  church  that  he  should  still 
remain  :  for  the  individual  himself  "  to  depart  and  to  be 
with  Christ  "  must  needs  be  great  gain.  And  of  my 
dear,  my  filial  friend,  we  may  with  a  strong  and  most 
consoling  assurance  affirm  that  he  was  eminently  one 

Who,  being  innocent,  did  even  for  that  cause 

Bestir  him  in  good  deeds ! 

Wise  Virgin  He,  and  wakeful  kept  his  Lamp 

Aye  trimm'd  and  full ;  and  thus  thro'  grace  he  liv'd 

In  this  bad  World  as  in  a  place  of  Tombs, 

And  touch'd  not  the  Pollutions  of  the  Dead. 

And  yet  in  Christ  only  did  he  build  a  hope.  Yea,  he 
blessed  the  emptiness  that  made  him  capable  of  his  Lord's 
fullness,  gloried  in  the  blindness  that  was  a  receptive  of 
his  Master's  light,  and  in  the  nakedness  that  asked  to  be 
cloathcd  with  the  wedding-garment  of  his  Redeemer's 
Righteousness.  Therefore  say  I  unto  you,  my  young 
friend,  Rejoice  !  and  again  I  say.  Rejoice ! 

The  effect  of  the  event  communicated  in  your  letter  has 

1  See  Table  Talk,  August  14,  1832. 


764  THE   PHILOSOPHER  and   divine  [1832 

been  that  of  awe  and  sadness  on  our  whole  household. 
Mrs.  Gilhnan  mourns  as  for  a  son,  but  with  tluit  <jrief 
which  is  felt  for  a  departed  saint.  Even  the  servants 
felt  as  if  an  especially  loved  and  honoured  member  of  the 
family  had  been  suddenly  taken  away.  When  I  an- 
nounced the  sad  tidings  to  Harriet,  an  almost  unalpha- 
heted  but  very  sensible  woman,  the  tears  swelled  in  her 
eyes,  and  she  exclaimed,  "  Ah  sir !  how  many  a  Thursday 
night,  after  Mr.  Steinmetz  was  gone,  and  I  had  opened 
the  door  for  him,  I  have  said  to  them  below,  '  That  dear 
young  man  is  too  amiable  to  live.  God  will  soon  have 
him  back.'  "  These  were  her  very  words.  Nor  were  my 
own  anticipations  of  his  recall  less  distinct  or  less  fre- 
quent. Not  once  or  twice  only,  after  he  had  shaken  hands 
with  me  on  leaving  us,  I  have  turned  round  with  the  tear 
on  my  cheek,  and  whispered  to  Mrs.  Gillman,  "  Alas ! 
there  is  Death  in  that  dear  hand."  ^ 

My  dear  sir !  if  our  society  can  afford  any  comfort  to 
2/0?/,  as  that  of  so  dear  a  friend  of  Adam  Steinmetz  can- 
not but  be  to  us,  I  beseech  you  in  my  own  name,  and  am 
intreated  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gillman  to  invite  you,  to  be 
his  rejiresentative  for  us,  and  to  take  his  place  in  our 
circle.  And  I  must  further  request  that  you  do  not  con- 
fine yourself  to  any  particular  evening  of  the  week  (for 
which  there  is  now  no  reason),  but  that  yon  consult  your 
own  convenience  and  opportunities  of  leisure.  At  what- 
ever hour  he  comes,  the  fraternal  friend  of  Adam  Stein- 
metz will  ever  be  dear  and  most  welcome  to 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

1  So,    too,    of   Keats.     See  Table     Talk,    etc.,   Bell    &    Sons.      1884, 
Talk   for  August  14,   1832.     Table    p.  179. 


CHAPTER   XV 

THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END 

1833-1834 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  BEGINNING   OP  THE  END 

1833-1834 

CCLVI.    TO   J.    H.    GREEN. 

Sunday  nigiit,  April  8,  1833. 

It  is  seldom,  my  clearest  friend,  that  I  find  myself  differ- 
ing from  you  in  judgements  of  any  sort.  It  is  more  than 
seldom  that  I  am  left  in  doubt  and  query  on  any  judge- 
ment of  yours  of  a  practical  nature,  for  on  the  good 
ground  of  some  sixteen  or  more  years'  experience  I  feel  a 
take-for-granted  faith  in  the  dips  and  pointings  of  the 
needle  in  every  decision  of  your  total  mind.  But  in  the 
instance  you  spoke  of  this  afternoon,  viz.,  your  persistent 
rebuttal  of  the  Temperance  Society  Man's  Request, 
though  I  do  not  feel  sure  that  you  are  not  in  the  right, 
yet  I  do  feel  as  if  I  slioidd  have  been  more  delighted  and 
more  satisfied  if  you  had  intimated  your  compliance  with 
it.  I  feel  that  in  this  case  I  should  have  had  no  doubt ; 
but  that  my  mind  would  have  leapt  forwards  with  con- 
tent, like  a  key  to  a  loadstone. 

Assuredly  you  might,  at  least  you  would,  have  a  very 
promising  chance  of  effecting  considerable  good,  and  you 
might  have  commenced  your  address  with  your  own 
remark  of  the  superfluity  of  any  light  of  information 
afforded  to  an  habitual  dram-drinker  respecting  the  un- 
utterable evil  and  misery  of  his  thraldom.  As  wisely 
give  a  physiological  lecture  to  convince  a  man  of  the  pain 
of  burns,  while  he  is  lying  with  his  head  on  the  bars  of 
the  fire-grate,  instead  of  snatching  him  off.  But  in  stat- 
ing this,  you  might  most  effectingiy  and  jireventively  for 


768  THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END  [April 

others  describe  the  misery  of  that  condition  in  which  the 
impulse  waxes  as  the  motive  wanes.  (Mem.  There  is  a 
striking-  passage  in  my  "•  Friend  "  on  this  subject,^  and  a 
no  less  striking  one  in  a  schoolboy  theme  of  mine  ^  now 
in  Gillman's  possession,  and  in  my  own  hand,  written 
when  I  was  fourteen,  with  the  simile  of  the  treacherous 
current  of  the  Maelstrom.)  But  this  might  give  occa- 
sion for  the  suggestion  of  one  new  charitable  institution, 
viuder  authority  of  a  legislative  act,  namely,  a  JMahon  de 
Sante  (what  do  the  French  call  it  ?)  for  lunacy  and  idiocy 
of  the  imll,  in  which,  with  the  full  consent  of,  or  at  the 
direct  instance  of  the  patient  himself,  and  with  the  con- 
currence of  his  friends,  such  a  person  under  the  certificate 
of  a  physician  might  be  placed  under  medical  and  moral 
coercion.  I  am  convinced  that  London  would  furnish  a 
hundred  volunteers  in  as  many  days  from  the  gin-shops, 
who  would  swallow  their  glass  of  poison  in  order  to  get 
courage  to  present  themselves  to  the  hospital  in  question. 
And  a  similar  institution  might  exist  for  a  higlier  class  of 
will-maniacs  or  impotents.  Had  such  a  house  of  health 
been  in  existence,  I  know  who  would  have  entered  him- 
self as  a  patient  some  five  and  twenty  years  ago. 

Second  class.  To  the  persons  still  capable  of  self-cure ; 

^  "  The  sot  wonld  reject  the  poi-  The  theme  was  selected  by  Boyer 

soned  cup,  yet  the  trembling;-  hand  for  insertion  in  his  Liher  Aureus  of 

with  which   he   raises  his  daily   or  school  exercises  in  prose  and  verse, 

hourly  draiitjht  to  liis  lips  has  not  now  in  the  possession  of  James  Boyer, 

left  him  ignorant  that  this,  too,  is  Esq.,  of  the  Coopers'  Company.    The 

altog-ether  a  poison."     The  Friend,  sentence  to  which  Coleridg-e  alludes 

Essay   xiv.  ;     Coleridge's    Works,  ii.  ran  thus:   "As  if  we  were  in  some 

100.  great  sea-vortex,  every  moment  we 

^  The  motto  of  this  theme,  (Jan-  perceive  our  ruin  more  clearly,  every 

uary  10,  ITIU).  of  which  I  possess  a  moment  we  are  impelled  towards  it 

transcript  in   Coleridi^e's   handwrit-  with  greater  force." 

ing,  or  perhaps  the  original  copy,  is —  The  essay  was  jirinted  for  the  first 

Quid  fas  time  in  the  Illustrated  London  News, 

Atque  nefas  tandem  incipiunt  sentire  per-  April  1,  1893. 

acti.s 
Crimiiiibus. 


1833]  TO   MRS.   ADERS  769 

and  lastly,  to  the  young  wlio  have  only  begun,  and  not 
yet  begun  —  [add  to  this]  the  urgency  of  connecting  the 
Temperance  Society  with  the  Christian  churches  of  all 
denominations,  —  the  classes  known  to  each  other,  and 
deriving  strength  from  religion.  This  is  a  beautiful  jDart, 
or  might  have  been  made  so,  of  the  Wesleyan  Church. 

These  are  but  raw  hints,  but  unless  the  mercy  of  God 
should  remove  me  from  my  sufferings  earlier  than  I  dare 
hope  or  pray  for,  we  will  talk  the  subject  over  again  ;  as 
well  as  the  reason  w7iy  spirits  in  any  form  as  such  are 
so  much  more  dangerous,  morally  and  in  relation  to  the 
forming  a  habit,  than  beer  or  wine.  Item :  if  a  govern- 
ment were  truly  fraternal,  a  healthsome  and  sound  beer 
would  be  made  universal ;  aye,  and  for  the  lower  half  of 
the  middle  classes  wine  might  be  imported,  good  and 
generous,  from  sixpence  to  eightiJence  per  quart. 

God  bless  you  and  your  ever  affectionate 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CCLVII.    TO   MRS.   ADERS.l 

[1833.] 

IVIy  dear  Mrs.  Aders,  —  By  my  illness  or  oversight 
I  have  occasioned  a  very  sweet  vignette  to  have  been 
made  in  vain  —  except  for  its  own  beauty.  Had  I  sent  you 
the  lines  that  were  to  be  written  on  the  upright  tomb,  you 
and  our  excellent  Miss  Denman  would  have,  first,  seen 
the  dimension  requisite  for  letters  of  a  distinctly  visible 
and  legible  size ;  and  secondly,  that  the  homely,  plain 
Church-yard  Christian  verses  woidd  not  be  in  keeping 
with  a  Muse  (though  a  lovelier  I  never  wooed),  nor  with 

^  This  letter,  which  is  addressed  throuf^h  the  press.     Apparently  he 

in  Coleridge's  handwriting,   "Mrs.  had  intended   that  the  "Epitaph" 

Aders,  favoured   by    II.    Gillnian,"  should   be  inscribed  on  the  outline 

and  endorsed  in  jjencil,  "  S.  T.  C.'s  of  a  headstone,  and  that  this  should 

letter  for  Miss  Denman,"  refers  to  illustrate,  by  way  of  -vignette,  the 

the  new  edition  of  his  poetical  works  last  page  of  the  volume, 
which  Coleridge  had  beg^un  to  see 


770  THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END  [Oct. 

a  lyre  or  harp  or  laurel,  or  aught  else  Parnassian  and 
allegorical.  A  rude  old  yew-tree,  or  a  mountain  ash, 
with  a  grave  or  two,  or  any  other  characteristic  of  a  vil- 
lage rude  church-yard,  —  such  a  hint  of  a  landscape  was 
all  I  meant ;  but  if  any  figure,  rather  that  of  an  elderly 

man 

Thoughtful,  with  quiet  tears  upon  his  cheek. 

(Tonddess  Epitaph.     See  *'  Sibylline  Leaves.") 
But  I  send  the  lines,  and  you  and  Miss  Dennian  will 
form  3^our  own  opinion. 

Is  one  of  Wy ville's  ])roof s  of  my  face  worth  Mr.  Aders' 
acceptance?  I  wrote  under  the  one  I  sent  to  Henry 
Coleridge  the  line  from  Ovid,  with  the  translation,  thus: 

S.  T.  Coleridge,  ^tat.  su^  63. 

Not  / handsome  /  was  /  but  /  was  /  eloquent  / 
"  Non  formosus  erat,  sed  erat  facundus  Ulysses." 

Translation. 

*'  In  truth,  he  's  no  Beauty  !  "  cry'd  Moll,  Poll,  and  Tab ; 
But  they  all  of  them  own'd  He  'd  the  gift  of  the  Gab. 

My  best  love  to  Mr.  Aders,  and  believe  that  as  I  have 

been,    so   I   ever   remain    your   affectionate   and   trusty 

friend, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

P.  S.    /like  the  tombstone  very  much. 


The   lines   when  printed  woidd  probably  have  on  the 
preceding  page  the  advertisement  — 


1833] 


TO  JOHN  STERLING 


771 


Epitaph  ok  a  Poet  little  known,  yet  better  known  by  the 
Initials  of  his  Name  than  by  the  Name  itself. 

S.  T.  C. 

Stop,  Christian  Passer-by !     Stop,  Child  of  God ! 

And  read  with  gentle  heart.     Beneath  this  sod 

A  Poet  lies :  or  that,  which  once  seem'd  He. 

O  lift  one  thought  in  prayer  for  S.  T.  C. 

That  He,  who  many  a  year  with  toilsome  breath 

Found  Death  in  Life,  may  here  find  Life  in  Death. 

Mercy  for  Praise  —  to  he  for (j wen  for  Fame 

He  ask'd,  and  lioped  thro'  Christ.     DO  THOU  the  Same. 

CCLVIII.    TO   JOHN   STERLING.^ 

Grove,  Highgate,  October  30,  1833. 
My  dear  Sir,  —  I  very  much  regret  that  I  am  not  to  see 
you  again  for  so  many  months.     Many  a  fond  dream  have 


1  Of  the  exact  date  of  Sterling's 
first  visit  to  Highgate  there  is  no  re- 
cord. It  may,  however,  be  taken 
for  granted  that  hLs  intimacy  with 
Coleridge  began  in  1828,  when  he 
was  in  his  twenty-third  year,  and 
continued  until  the  autumn  of  18o3, 
—  perhaps  lasted  until  Coleridge's 
death.  Unlike  Maurice,  and  Mau- 
rice's disciple,  Kingsley,  Sterling 
outlived  his  early  enthusiasm  for 
Coleridge  and  his  acceptance  of 
his  teaching.  It  may  be  said,  indeed, 
that,  thanks  to  the  genius  of  his 
second  master,  Carlyle,  he  suggests 
both  the  reaction  against  and  the 
rejection  of  Coleridge.  Of  that  re- 
jection Carlyle,  in  his  Ijife  of  Ster- 
ling, made  himself  the  mouth-piece. 
It  is  idle  to  say  of  that  marvellous 
but  disillusioning  presentment  that 
it  is  untruthful,  or  exaggerated,  or 
unkind.  It  is  a  sketch  from  the 
life,  and  who  can  doubt  that  it  is 
lifelike  ?     But  other  eyes  saw  an- 


other Coleridge  who  held  them  en- 
tranced. To  them  he  was  the  seer 
of  the  vision  beautiful,  the  ' '  priest 
of  invisible  rites  behind  the  veil  of 
the  senses,"  and  to  their  ears  his 
voice  was  of  one  who  brought  good 
tidings  of  reconciliation  and  assur- 
ance. Many,  too,  who  cared  for 
none  of  these  things,  were  attracted 
to  the  man.  Like  the  wedding-guest 
in  the  Ancient  Mariner,  they  stood 
still.  No  other,  they  felt,  was  so 
wise,  so  loveable.  They,  too,  were 
eye-witnesses,  and  their  portraiture 
has  not  been  otitpainted  by  Carlyle. 
Apart  from  any  expression  of  opinion, 
it  is  worth  while  to  note  that  Car- 
lyle saw  Coleridge  for  the  last  time 
in  the  spring  of  ISl'."),  and  that  the 
Life  of  Sterling  was  composed  more 
than  a  quarter  of  a  century  later. 
His  opinion  of  the  man  had,  indeed, 
changed  but  little,  as  the  notes  and 
letters  of  1824-2.")  clearly  testify,  but 
his  criticism  of  the  writer  was  far 


772  THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END  [July 

I  amused  myself  with,  of  your  residing  near  me  or  in  the 
same  house,  and  of  pi-eparing,  with  your  and  Mr.  Green's 
assistance,  my  whole  system  for  the  press,  as  far  as  it 
exists  in  writing  in  any  systematic  form ;  that  is,  begin- 
ning with  the  Propyleum,  On  the  power  and  use  of  Words, 
comprising  Logic,  as  the  canons  of  Conclusion^  as  the 
criterion  of  Premises^  and  lastly  as  the  discipline  and 
evolution  of  Ideas  (and  then  the  Metliodus  et  Epochee, 
or  the  Disquisition  on  God,  Nature,  and  Man),  the  two 
first  grand  divisions  of  which,  from  the  Ens  super  Ens  to 
the  Fall^  or  from  God  to  Ilades,  and  then  from  Chaos  to 
the  commencement  of  living  organization,  containing  the 
whole  scheme  of  the  Dynamic  Philosophy,  and  the  deduc- 
tion of  the  Powers  and  Forces,  are  complete  ;  as  is  likewise 
a  third,  composed  for  the  greater  part  by  Mr.  Green,  on 
the  "  Application  of  the  Ideas,  as  the  Transcendents  of 
the  Truths,  Duties,  Affections,  etc.,  in  the  Human  Mind." 
If  I  could  once  publish  these  (but,  alas !  even  these  could 
not  be  compressed  in  less  than  three  octavo  volumes),  I 
should  then  have  no  objection  to  print  my  MS.  papers  on 
"  Positive  Theology,  from  Adam  to  Abraham,  to  Moses, 
the  Prophets,  Christ  and  Christendom."  But  this  is  a 
dream !  I  am,  however,  very  seriously  disposed  to  em- 
less  appreciative  than  it  had  been  in  go  to  Highgate,  and  wait  on  Mrs. 
Coleridge's  lifetime.  The  following  Gillman  and  yourself.  I  have  trav- 
extracts  from  a  letter  of  Sterling  to  elled  the  road  thither  with"  keen 
Gillman,  dated  "  Hurstmonceaux,  and  buoyant  expectation,  and  re- 
October  9,  1834,"  are  evidence  that  turned  with  high  and  animating  re- 
his  feelings  towards  Coleridge  were  membrances  oftener  than  any  other 
at  that  time  those  of  a  reverent  dis-  in  England.  Hereafter,  too,  it  will 
ciple  :  —  not  have  lost  its  charm.  There  is  not 

"  The  Inscription  [in  Highgate  only  all  this  world  of  recollection, 
Church]  will  forever  be  enough  to  but  the  dwelling  of  those  who  best 
put  to  shame  the  heartless  vanity  of  knew  and  best  loved  his  work.' 
a  thousand  such  writers  as  the  Opium  Life  of  Sterling,  1S71,  pp.  46-54; 
Eater.  As  a  portrait,  or  even  as  a  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge,  a  Narra- 
hint  for  one,  his  papers  seem  to  me  tive,  by  J.  Dykes  Campbell,  pp.  259- 
worse  than  useless.  261  ;    British    Museum,    add.    MS. 

"  If  it  Ls  possible,  I  wLU  certainly    34,225,  f.  194. 


1834]  TO  MISS   ELIZA  NIXON  773 

ploy  the  next  two  months  in  preparing  for  the  press  a 
metrical  translation  (if  I  find  it  practicable)  of  the  Apoca- 
lypse, with  an  introduction  on  the  "  Use  and  Interpreta- 
tion of  Scriptures."  I  am  encouraged  to  this  by  finding 
how  much  of  original  remains  in  my  views  after  I  have 
subtracted  all  I  have  in  common  with  Eichhorn  and 
Heinrichs.  I  write  now  to  remind  you,  or  to  beg  you  to 
recall  to  my  memory  the  name  of  the  more  recent  work 
(Lobeck?)  which  you  mentioned  to  me,  and  whether  you 
can  procure  it  for  me,  or  rather  the  loan  of  it.  Likewise, 
whether  you  know  of  any  German  translation  and  com- 
mentary on  Daniel,  that  is  thought  highly  of?  I  find 
Gesenius'  version  exceedingly  interesting,  and  look  for- 
ward to  the  Commentaries  with  delight.  You  mentioned 
some  works  on  the  numerical  Cabbala,  the  Gematria  (I 
think)  they  call  it.  But  I  must  not  scribble  away  your 
patience,  and  after  I  have  heard  from  you  from  Cambridge 
I  will  try  to  write  to  you  more  to  the  purpose  (f(n-  I  did 
not  begin  this  scrawl  till  the  hour  had  passed  that  ought 
to  have  found  me  in  bed). 

With  sincere  regard,  your  obliged  friend, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

CCLIX.      TO   MISS   ELIZA   NIXON.^ 

July  0,  1S34. 

My  DEAR  Eliza,  —  The  three  volumes  of  Miss  Edge- 
worth's  "  Helen  "  ought  to  have  been  sent  in  to  you  last 

1  The  following  unpublished  lines  ^f  qniequid  mitfis,  Tkiira  putare  dccH. 

y^ere  addressed  by  Coleridge  to  this  ^"'^  whatever  thou  sendest,  Sabeau  odours 

,    ,  •  1  1  T  to  thiuk  it  it  behoves  me. 

young  lady,  a  neighbour,l  presume, 

and  friend  of  the  Gillmans.     They  The   whole  adapted  from  an  epi- 

must   be  among   the   last    he    ever  gram    of    Claudius    by   substituting 

■wrote :  —  T/nira  for  mella,  the  original  distich 

j-Ljg^  being    in    return    for   a  Present  of 

™,                        ^                 -  Honey. 

TEANSLATION  OF   ClAUDIAN.      [  IMITATION. 

Dulcia  dona  mihi  tu  mittis semper  Elisa  .'       Sweet  Gift !  and  always  doth  Eliza  send 
Sweet    gifts  to  me  thou    seudest  always,     Sweet  Gifts  and  full  of   fragrance  to   lior 
Elisa  I  Friend. 


774  THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END  [July 

night,  and  are  marked  as  having  been  so  sent.  And 
indeed,  knowing  how  much  noise  this  work  was  making 
and  the  great  interest  it  had  excited,  I  shoukl  not  have 
been  so  selfish  as  to  have  retained  them  on  my  own 
account.  But  Mrs.  Gilhuan  is  very  anxious  that  I  should 
read  it,  and  has  made  me  promise  to  write  my  remarks  on 
it,  and  such  reflections  as  the  contents  may  suggest,  which, 
in  awe  of  the  precisians  of  the  Book  Society,  I  shall  put 
down  on  separate  paper.  The  young  people  were  so  eager 
to  read  it,  that  with  my  slow  and  interrupted  style  of 
reading,  it  would  have  been  cruel  not  to  give  them  the 
priority.  Mrs.  Gillman  flatters  me  that  you  and  your  sis- 
ters will  think  a  coj^y  of  my  remarks  some  compensa- 
tion for  the  delay. 

God  bless  you,  my  dear  young  friend.  You,  I  know, 
will  be  gratified  to  learn,  and  in  my  own  writing,  the  still 
timid  but  still  strenothenin"-  and  briffhtenins:  dawn  of 
convalescence  with  the  last  eight  days. 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 

July  9,  1834. 

The  two  volumes  ^  that  I  send  you  are  making  a  ru- 
mour, and  are  highly  and  I  believe  justly  extolled.  They 
are  written  by  a  friend  of  mine,^  a  remarkably  handsome 
young  man  whom  you  may  have  seen  on  one  of  our  latest 
Thursday  evening  conversazioni.  I  have  not  yet  read 
them,  but  keep  them  till  I  send  in  "  Helen,"  and  longer, 
if  you  should  not  have  finished  them. 

Enoucli  for  Him  to  know  they  come  from        Literal  translation:  Always,  Eliza ! 

„,,,,',  J    .    ^      , .  .to  me  things  of   sweet  odour  thou 

Whate'er  she  sends  is  Frankincense    and  _ 

Myrrh.  presentest.     r  or  whatever  tliou  pre- 

sentest,  I  fancy  redolent  of  thyself. 
Another  on  the  same  subject  by     whateW  thou  giv'st,  it  still  is  sweet  to  me, 
S.  T.  C.  himself  :  —  For  still  I  find  it  redolent  of  thee  I 

Semper,  Eliza!  mihitusuaveolentia  donas:  ^  Philip  Van  Artevelde. 

Nam  quicquid  donas,  te  redolere  puto.  ^  Sir  Henry  Taylor. 


1834]  TO   ADAM   STEINMETZ   KENNARD  775 

CCLX.      TO   ADAM   STEINMETZ   KENNARD. 

Grove,  Highgate,  July  13,  1834. 
My  DEAR  Godchild, — I  offer  up  the  same  fervent 
prayer  for  you  now  as  I  did  kneeling  before  the  altar 
when  you  were  baptized  into  Christ,  and  solemnly  received 
as  a  living-  member  of  His  spiritual  bod}',  the  ehurt-h. 
Years  must  pass  before  you  will  be  able  to  read  with  an 
understanding  heart  what  I  now  write.  But  I  trust  that 
the  all-gracious  God,  the  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Ciirist, 
the  Father  of  mercies,  who  by  His  only-begotten  Son  (all 
mercies  in  one  sovereign  mercy !)  has  redeemed  you  from 
evil  ground,  and  willed  you  to  be  born  out  of  darkjiess, 
but  into  light ;  out  of  death,  but  into  life  ;  out  of  sin,  but 
into  righteousness  ;  even  into  "  the  Lord  our  righteous- 
ness,"—  I  trust  that  He  will  graciously  hear  the  prayers  of 
your  dear  parents,  and  be  with  you  as  the  spirit  of  health 
and  growth,  in  body  and  in  mind.  My  dear  godchild,  you 
received  from  Christ's  minister  at  the  baptismal  font,  as 
your  Christian  name,  the  name  of  a  most  dear  friend  of 
your  father's,  and  who  was  to  me  even  as  a  son,  —  the  late 
Adam  Steinmetz,  whose  fervent  aspirations  and  para- 
mount aim,  even  from  early  youth,  was  to  be  a  Christian 
in  thought,  word,  and  deed ;  in  will,  mind,  and  affections. 
I,  too,  your  godfather,  have  known  what  the  enjoyment 
and  advantages  of  tliis  life  are,  and  what  the  more  refined 
pleasures  which  learning  and  intellectual  power  can  give  ; 
I  now,  on  the  eve  of  my  departure,  declare  to  you,  and  ear- 
nestly pray  that  you  may  hei'eafter  live  and  act  on  the 
conviction,  that  health  is  a  great  blessing  ;  competence, 
obtained  by  honourable  industry,  a  groat  blessing;  and  a 
great  blessing  it  is,  to  have  kind,  faithful,  and  loving 
friends  and  relatives ;  but  that  the  greatest  of  all  bless- 
ings, as  it  is  the  most  ennobling  of  all  privileges,  is  to  be 
indeed  a  Christian.  But  I  have  been  likewise,  through  a 
large  portion  of  my  later  life,  a  sufferer,  sorely  affected 


77G  THE   BEGINNING   OF  THE   END  [1834 

with  bodily  pains,  languor,  and  manifold  infirmities  ;  and 
for  the  last  three  or  four  years  have,  with  few  and  brief 
intervals,  been  confined  to  a  sick-room,  and  at  this  mo- 
ment, in  great  weakness  and  heaviness,  write  from  a  sick- 
bed, hopeless  of  recovery,  yet  without  prospect  of  a  speedy 
removal.  And  I  thus,  on  the  brink  of  the  grave,  solemnly 
bear  witness  to  you,  that  the  Almight}^  Kedeemer,  most 
gracious  in  His  promises  to  them  that  truly  seek  Him,  is 
faithful  to  perform  what  He  has  promised ;  and  has 
reserved,  under  all  pains  and  infirmities,  the  peace  that 
passeth  all  understanding,  with  the  supporting  assurance 
of  a  reconciled  God,  who  will  not  withdraw  His  spirit  from 
me  in  the  conflict,  and  in  His  own  time  will  deliver  me 
from  the  evil  one.  Oh,  my  dear  godchild  !  eminently 
blessed  are  they  who  begin  early  to  seek,  fear,  and  love 
their  God,  trusting  wholly  in  the  righteousness  and  media- 
tion of  their  Lord,  Eedeemer,  Saviour,  and  everlasting 
High  Priest,  eTesus  Christ.  Oh,  preserve  this  as  a  legacy 
and  bequest  from  your  unseen  godfather  and  friend, 

S.  T.  Coleridge. 


INDEX 


G 


Abergavenny,  410. 

Abergavenny,  Earl  of,  wreck  of  the, 
494  n. ;   49"^  n. 

Abernethy,  Dr.  John,  .52.5  ;  C.  deter- 
mines to  place  himself  under  the 
care  of,  5(34,  505. 

Aehard,  F.  C,  299  and  note. 

Aclaud,  Sir  John,  52;J  and  note. 

Acting.  021-628. 

Acton,  184,  186-188,  191. 

Adams,  Dr.  Joseph,  442  and  note. 

Addison's  Spectator,  studied  by  C, 
in  connection  with  The  Friend, 
557,  558. 

Address  on  the  Present  War,  An, 
85  n. 

Address  to  a  Yojmg  Jackass  and  its 
Tethered  Mother,  119  and  note, 
120. 

Aders,  Mrs.,  701  n.,  702  n.,  752  ;  let- 
ters from  C,  701,  769. 

Adscombe,  175,  184,  188. 

Advising,  the  rage  of,  474,  475. 

Adye,  Major,  493. 

^schylus,  Essay  on  the  Prometheus 
of,  740  and  note. 

Aids  to  Reflection,  (588  n.  ;  prepara- 
tion and  publication  of,  734  n., 
738  ;  C.  calls  Stuart's  attention  to 
certain  passages  in,  741  ;  favour- 
able opinions  of,  741  ;  756  n. 

Ainger,  Kev.  Alfred,  400  n. 

Akenside,  Mark,  197. 

Albuera,  the  13attle  of,  C.'s  articles 
on,  567  and  note. 

Alfoxden,  10  n.  ;  Wordsworth  set- 
tles at,  224,227;  326,  515. 

Alison's  Histori/  of  Europe,  (528  n. 

Allen,  Robert,  41  and  note,  45,  47, 
50 ;  extract  from  a  letter  from 
him  to  C,  57  n. ;  it'-).  75,  83, 12(); 
appointed  deputy-surgeon  to  the 
Second  Royals,  225  and  note  ;  let- 
ter to  C,  225  n. 


Allsop,  Mrs.,  733  n. 

AUsop,  Thomas,  friendship  and  cor- 
respondence with  C,  695,  696 ; 
publishes  C.'s  letters  after  his 
death,  696  ;  his  Letters,  Conversa- 
tions, and  Recollections  of  S.  T. 
Coleridge,  41  n.,  527  n.,  675  n., 
696  and  note,  698  n.,  721  n. ;  711  ; 
C.'s  letter  of  Oct.  8,  1822,  721  n. ; 
letter  from  C,  696. 

Allston,  Washington,  523 ;  his  bust 
of  C.,  570  n.,  571  ;  his  portraits  of 
C,  572  and  note  ;  his  art  and 
moral  character,  573,  574 ;  581, 
633 ;  his  genius  and  his  misfor- 
tunes, 650  ;  695  aud  notes ;  letter 
from  C,  498. 

Ambleside,  335 ;  Lloyd  settles  at, 
344 ;  577,  578. 

America,  proposed  emigration  of  C. 
and  other  pantisoerats  to,  81,  88- 
91, 98,  101-103,  146  ;  prospects  of 
war  with  England,  91  ;  241  ;  pro- 
gress of  religious  deism  in,  414; 
C.'s  letter  concerning  the  inevita- 
bleness  of  a  war  with,  629. 

Amtmann  of  Ratzeburg,  the,  264, 
268,  271. 

Amulet,  The,  257. 

Ancient  Mariner,  The,  81  n.  ;  written 
in  a  dream  or  dreamlike  reverie, 
245  n.  ;  69(). 

Animal  Vitaliti/,  Essai/  on.  by  Thel- 
wall,  179.  212. 

Annual  Anthology,  the.  edited  by 
Southey,  207  n.,  226  n.,  295  n., 
298  n. ;  C.  suggests  a  classifica- 
tion of  poems  in,  313,  314,  317; 
318,  320,  322  and  note,  330,  331, 
748  n. 

An7vial  Review.  488,  489,  522. 

Anti-Jarobin,  The  Beauties  of  the,  its 
libel  on  f\.  ;!2()  and  note. 

Antiquary,   The,  by  Scott,  C.'s  por- 


778 


INDEX 


trait  introduced  into  an   illustra- 
tion for,  T-!lt  and  note. 
AiUs,  Tnalise  on,  by  Hnber,  712. 
Ardinyfullo,  by  Heinae,  083  and  note. 
Arnold,  Mr.,  ("jOL',  ()().',. 
Arrochar,  4:]2  and  note. 
Arthur's  Craj;-,  4;ii>. 
A-seity,  088  and  note. 
Asgill,  Jolin,  aud  his  Treatises,  701 

and  note. 
Ashburtou,  oO.j  n. 
Ashe,  'I'homas,  his  Miscellanies,  ^s- 

thttic  and  Literari/,  ti^o  n. 
Ashlev,    C.    with   the    Morgans   at, 

O;)!." 
Ashley,  Lord,   and  the  Ten   Hours 

Bills,  ()8!)  n. 
Ashton,  140  and  note. 
As   late   I  roamed  through   Fancy^s 

shadowy  ua/e,  a  sonnet,  116  n.,  llS. 
Atheism,  101,  102,  107,  199,  200. 
Athenaeum,  The,  200  n.,  -530  n.,  753  n. 
Atlantic  Monthly,  200  n. 
Autobiographical  letters  from  C.  to 

Thomas  Poole,  3-21. 

Baader,  Franz  Xavier  von,  683  and 
note. 

Babb,  Mr.,422. 

Bacon,  Lord,  his  Novum  Organum, 
73."). 

Badcoek,  Mr.,  21. 

Badeock,  Harry,  22. 

Badcoek,  Sam,  22. 

Bala,  79. 

Ball.  Ladv,  494  n.,  497. 

Ball.  Sir  Alexander  John,  484,  487, 
490,  497;  mutual  reg-ard  of  C. 
and,  .508  n. ;  .524,  .554 ;  C.'s  nar- 
rative of  his  life.  579  n.  :  his  opin- 
ions of  Ladv  Nelson  aud  Lady 
Hamilton,  0">7. 

Ba'lad  of  the  Dark  Ladie,  The.  -"75. 

Bampfylde,  John  Codiiugton  War- 
wick, his  genius,  originality,  and 
subsequent  lunacy,  3i  '9  and  note  ; 
his  Sixteen  Sonriets,  309  n. 

Baufill,  Mr.,  306. 

Barbauld.  Anna  Lsetitia,  317  n. 

Barbou  Casimir,  The,  67  and  notes, 
OS. 

Barlow,  Caleb.  38. 

Barr,  Mr.,  liis  children.  154, 

Barrington,  Hon.  and  Kt.  Rev.  John 
Shute,  Bishop  of  Durham,  582  and 
note. 


Bassenthwaite  Lake,  335,  376  n. ; 
sunset  over,  .384. 

Beard,  On  Mrs.  Mondai/'s,  9  n. 

Beaumont,  Lady,  459,  573,  580,  592, 
593  ;  procures  subscribers  to  C.'s 
lectures,  599  ;  044,  045,  739,  741 ; 
letter  from  C,  (i41. 

Beaumont,  Sir  George,  440  n.,  462 ; 
his  afi'ection  for  C.  preceded  by 
dislike,  408;  4'.l3  ;  extract  from  a 
letter  from  Wordsworth  on  .John 
Wordsworth's  death,  494  n. ;  49(); 
lends  the  ^V'ords\vorths  his  farm- 
liouse  near  Coleorton,  .")09  n.  ;  579- 
581  ;  C.  explains  the  nature  of  his 
quarrel  with  Wordsworth  to,  592, 
.593;  .595  n.,  029;  on  Allston  aa 
an  historical  painter,  0.]3 ;  739, 
741 ;  letter  from  C,  570. 

Beauties  of  the  Anti-Jacobin,  The, 
its  libel  on  C,  320  and  note. 

Becky  Fall,  305  n. 

Beddoes,  Dr.  Thomas,  1.57,  211,  .338; 
C.'s  grief  at  his  death,  543  and 
note,  544  and  note  ;  his  advice 
and  sympathy  in  response  to  C.'8 
confession,  543  n. ;  lis  character, 
544. 

Bedford,  Grosvenor,  400  n. 

Beet  sugar,  299  and  note. 

Beguines,  the,  .327  n. 

Bell,  Rev.  Andrew,  D.  D.,  575,  .582 
and  note,  t)05  ;  his  Origin,  Nature, 
and  Object  of  the  Neiv  System  of 
Education,  .581  and  note,  .582. 

Bell,  Rev.  Andrew,  Life  of,  by  R. 
and  C.  C.  Southey,  5S1  n. 

Bcllingham,  John,  598  n. 

Bell-iinging  in  Germany,  293. 

Belper.  Lord  (Edward  Strutt),  215  n. 

Bennett.  Abraham,  his  electroscope, 
2  IS  n.,  219  n. 

Beutley's  Q\iarto  Edition  of  Horace, 
(is  and  note. 

Benvenuti,  498,  499. 

Benyoirski.  Count,  or  the  Consjdracy 
of  Kamtsrhatka.  a  Tragi -comedy, 
by  Kotzeltne,  230  and  note. 

Berdmore,  Mr.,  80,  S2. 

Bernard,  Sir  Thomas,  579  and  notes, 
580,  .582,  5S5,  595  n.,  599. 

Betham,  Matilda,  To.  From  a 
Stranger,  404  n. 

Bible,  The,  as  literature,  C.'s  opinion 
of,  200 ;  slovenly  hexameters  in, 
398. 


INDEX 


779 


Bibliography,  Southey's  proposed 
work,  428-430. 

Bibliotheca  Britannica,  or  an  History 
of  British  Literature,  a  proposed 
work,  4:>5-427,  429,  430. 

Bigotry,  198. 

Biilington,  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Weiehsel, 
308. 

Bingen,  751. 

Biogruphia  Literaria,  3,  68  n.,  74  n., 
152  n.,  U!4  n.,  174  n.,  232  n.,  257, 
320  n.,  498  n.,  007  n.,  669  n.,  670  n.; 
C.  ill-used  by  the  printer  of,  673, 
674;  079,  756  n. 

Birniinoham,  151,  152. 

Bishop's  Middleham,  358  and  note, 
3()0. 

BlarkwoofPs  Magazine,  756. 

Blake,  William,  as  poet,  painter,  and 
engraver,  ()85  n.,  686  n. ;  C.'s  crit- 
icism of  his  poems  and  their  ac- 
companying- illustrations,  686-688; 
his  Songs  of  Innocence  and  Expe- 
rience, 086  n. 

Bloomfield,  Robert,  .395. 

Blumenbach,  Prof.,  279,  298. 

Book  of  the  Church,  The,  724. 

Books,  C.'S  early  taste  in,  11  and 
note,  12  ;  in  later  life,  180,  181.' 

Booksellers,  C.'s  horror  of,  548. 

Borrowdale,  431. 

Borrowdale  mountains,  the,  370. 

Botany  Bay  Eclogues,  by  Robert 
Sou  they,  7(!  n.,  116. 

Bourbons,  C.'s  Essaj'  on  the  restora- 
tion of  the,  629  and  note. 

Bourne,  Sturtjes,  542. 

Bovev  waterfall,  305  n. 

Bowdon,  Anne,  marries  Edward 
Coleridg-e,  53  n. 

Bowdon.  Betsy,  18. 

Bowdon,  John  (C.'s  uncle),  C.  goes 
to  live  with,  18,  19. 

Bowdons,  the,  C.'s  mother's  family, 
4. 

Bowles,  the  surgeon,  212. 

Bowles.  To,  1 11 . 

Bowles.  Rev.  William  Lisle,  C.'s  ad- 
miration for  his  poems,  •37,  42, 
179  ;  iVt  n.,  7()  and  note  ;  C.'s  son- 
net to.  111  and  note  ;  1 15  ;  his 
sonuf'ts,  177;  liis  Hope,  an  ^Alle- 
gorical Sketch,  179.  181);  19().  197, 
211  ;  his  translation  of  Dean 
Ogle's  Latin  Iambics,  374  and 
note ;  school  life    at  Winchester, 


374  n. ;  C.'s,  Southey's,  and  Sothe- 
by's admiration  of,  and  its  effect 
on  their  poems,  39() ;  boiTows  a 
line  from  a  poem  of  C.'s,  396  ;  his 
second  volume  of  poems,  403,  404 ; 
637,  638,  650-652. 

Bowscale,  the  mountain,  339. 

Box,  631. 

Boyce,  Anne  Ogden.  her  Records  of 
a  Quaker  Family,  538  n. 

Boyer,  Rev.  Janits,  61,  113,  768  n. 

Brahmin  creed,  the,  229. 

Brandes,  Herr  von,  279. 

Brandl's  Samud  Taylor  Coleridge 
and  the  English  Eoihantic  School, 
258,  674  D.,  740  n. 

Bratha,  394.  r35. 

Bray,  near  Maidenhead,  €9,  70. 

Brazil,  Emperor  of,  an  enthusiastic 
student  and  admirer  of  C,  696. 

Bread-riots,  643  n. 

Brecon,  410,  411. 

Brendiill,  ()50. 

Brent,  Mr.,  598,  599. 

Brent,  Miss  Charlotte,  520,  524-526  ; 
C.'s  affection  for,  .o65 ;  577,  585, 
6C0,  618,  643,  722  n.  ;  letter  from 
C,  722.     See  Morgan  family,  the. 

Brentford,  326,  673  n. 

Bridge  water,  164. 

Bright,  Henry  A.,  245  n. 

Bristol,  C.'s  bachelor  life  in,  133- 
135;  138,  139,  1()3  n.,  166,  l(i7, 
184, 326,  414,  520, 572  n.,  621, 623, 
624. 

Bristol  Journal,  633  n. 

British  Critic,  the,  350. 

Brookes,  Mr.,  80,  S2. 

Brothers,  The,  by  Wordsworth,  the 
oiigin.al  of  Leonard  in,  494  n.  ;  C. 
accused  of  llo^ro^^ing  a  line  from, 
609  n. 

Brown,  John,  printer  and  publisher 
of  The  Fiitnd,M-I  n. 

Brnn,  Frederica,  C.'s  indebtedness 
1<)  her  for  the  framework  of  the 
Hymn  before  Sunrise  in  the  Vale 
of  Chamouni,  405  n. 

Bruno,  Giordano,  371. 
I  Brunton,  Mi.ss,  86  and  note,  87,  89 ; 
I       verses  to.  94. 

Brunton.  Elizabeth,  86  n. 
I  Brunton,  John.  8()  n.,  87. 

Brunton,  Louisa,  86  n. 

Bryant.  Jacob,  216  n.,  219. 
,  Buchan,  Earl  of,  139. 


780 


INDEX 


Buc'l^,  Miss,  130.     See  Cruiksbauk, 

Mi's.  John. 
UuUer,  .Sir    Francis   (Judge),  0  n. ; 

obtains  a    Clirist's    Hospital  Pre- 
sentation for  C,  18. 
Buonaparte,   808,    -.VJl   n.,   ?.20  and 

note ;    his   animosity    against   C, 

498  n.  ;  5o0  n.  ;  C.'s  cartoon  and 

lines  on,  042. 
Burdett,  !Sir  Francis,  598. 
Burke,     Edmund,    C.'s     sonnet    to, 

lU)  n.,  118;  his  Letter  to  a  Noble 

Lord,  li'u  and  note ;  Tbelwall  on, 

U)0;   177. 
Burnett,  George,  74,   121,   140-142, 

144-i:)l,  174  n.,  ;325,  4(57. 
Burns,   Robert,   l'.)(3;  C.'s  poem  on, 

200  and  note,  207. 
Burton,  320. 
Burton's    Anatomy    of   Melancholy, 

428. 
.Busts  of  C,  570  n.,  571,  09")  n. 
Butler,    Samuel    (afterwards    Head 

Master  of  Shrewsbury  and  Bishop 

of  Lichfield),  40  and  note. 
Buttermere,  393. 
Byron,    Lord,    his    Childe   Harold, 

583  ;  0()6,  ()04,  72r). 
Byron,   Lord,    Conversations   of,  by 

Capt.  Thomas  Medwiu,  735  and 

note. 

Cabriere,  Miss,  18. 

Caermarthen,  411. 

Caldbeck,  ;570  n.,  724. 

Calder,  the  river,  339. 

Caldwell,  Rev.  George,  25  and  note, 
29,  71,  82. 

Calne,  WUtshire,  C.'s  Ufe  at,  641- 
653. 

Calvert,  Raisley,  345  n. 

Calvert,  William,  proposes  to  study 
chemistry  with  C.  and  Words- 
worth, 345  ;  his  portrait  in  a  poem 
of  Wordsworth's,  345  n.  ;  proposes 
to  share  his  new  hous'j  near  (Jreta 
Hall  with  Wordsworth  and  his 
sister,  340  ;  his  sense  and  ability, 
.340 ;  347,  348. 

Cambridge,  description  of.  39  ;  137, 
270.  _ 

Cambridge,  Beminiscences  of,  by 
Henry  Gunning,  24  n.,  3()3  n. 

Cambridge  Intelligencer,  The,  93  n., 
2 IS  n. 

Cambridge  University,  C.'s  life  at, 


22-57,  70-72,  81-129;  C.  thinks 
of  leaving.  97  n. ;  137. 

Cameos  and  intaglios,  casts  of,  703 
and  note. 

Campbell,  James  Dykes,  251  n., 
337  n.  ;  his  Samuel  Taylor  Cole- 
ridge, 2(i9  n.,  527  n.,  572  n.,  (iOO  n., 
631  n.,  653  n.,  660  n.,  667  u.,  674  n., 
681  n.,  684  n.,  698  n.,  752  n., 
753  n.,  772  n. 

Canary  Islands,  417,  418. 

Canning,  George,  542,  (>74. 

Canova,  Antonio,  on  Allston's  mod- 
elling, ■")7-!. 

Cape  Esperichel,  473. 

Carlisle,  Sir  Anthony,  341  and  note. 

Carlton  House,  392. 

Carlyle,  Thomas,  his  portrait  of  C. 
in  the  Life  of  Sterling,  77 1  n. 

Carlyon,  Clement,  M.  1).,  his  Early 
Years  and  Late  liecollections,  258, 
298  n. 

Carnosity,  Mrs.,  472. 

Carrock,  the  mountain,  a  tempest 
on,  339,  340. 

Carrock  man,  the,  339. 

Cartwright,  Major  John,  035  and 
note. 

Cary,  Rev.  Henry,  his  Memoir  of  H. 
F.  Cary,  070  n. 

Cary,  11.  F.,  Memoir  of,  by  Henry 
Cary,  076  n. 

Cary,  Rev.  H.  F.,  his  translation  of 
the  Divina  Commedia,  07t),  (')77 
and  note,  678,  679 ;  C.  introduces 
hinjself  to,  676  n. ;  685,  699  ;  let- 
ters from  C,  670,  677,  731,  760. 

Casimir,  the  Barbou,  67  and  notes, 
()8. 

Castlereagh,  Lord.  602. 

Castle  Spectre,  The.  a  play  by  Monk 
Lewis,  C.'s  criticism  of,  236  and 
note,  237,  238 ;   020. 

Catania,  458. 

Cat-serenades  in  Malta,  483  n.,  484  n. 

Catherine  II.,  Empress  of  Russia, 
207  n. 

Cathloma,  51. 

Catholic  Emancipation,  C.'s  Let- 
ters to  Judge  Fletcher  on,  629 
and  note,  634  and  note,  635,  636, 
()42. 

Catholicism  in  Germany,  291,  292. 

Catholic  question,  the,  letters  in  the 
Courier  on,  5(i7  and  note  ;  C.  pro- 
poses to  again  write  for  the  Cou- 


INDEX 


781 


rier  on,  6G0,  662 ;  arrangements 
for  the  proposed  articles  on,  664, 
665. 

Cattermole,  George,  750  n. ;  letter 
from  C,  750. 

Cattermole,  Richard,  750  n. 

Cattle,  disposal  of  dead  and  sick,  in 
Germany,  294. 

Chalmei-s,  Rev.  Thomas,  D.  D.,  calls 
on  C,  752  and  note. 

Chantrey,  Mr.  (afterwards  Sir)  Fran- 
cis, R.  A.,  C."s  impressions  of, 
6'J'J;  727. 

Chapman,  Mr.,  appointed  Puhlic 
Secretary  of  Malta,  491,  496. 

Character,  A,  031  n. 

Charity,  110  n. 

Chatterton,  Monody  on  the  Death  of, 
110  n.,  15S  n. ;  C.'s  opinion  of  it 
in  1797,  222,  223  ;  620  n. 

Chatterton,  Thomas,  unpopularity 
of  his  poems,  221,  222  ;  Southey's 
exertions  in  aid  of  his  sister,  221, 
222. 

Chemistry,  C.  proposes  to  study, 
345-347. 

Chepstow,  1.39,  140  n. 

Chester,  John,  accompanies  C.  to 
Germany,  259 ;  265,  267,  269  n., 
272,  2S0,  281,  300. 

Childe  Harold,  by  Byron,  588. 

Childhood,  memory  of,  in  old  age, 
428. 

Children  in  cotton  factories,  legisla- 
tion as  to  the  employment  of,  689 
and  note. 

Christ,  both  God  and  man,  710. 

Christabel,  written  in  a  dream  or 
dreandike  reverie,  245  n. ;  310, 313, 
317,  337  and  note,  342,  349  ;  Con- 
clusion to  Part  II.,  355  and  note, 
35ti  n.  ;  Part  II.,  405  n.  ;  a  fine 
edition  proposed,  42 1 ,  422  ;  437 
n.,  .523  ;  C.  quotes  from,  609.  610 ; 
the  iBrokcn  frieiulsliip  commemo- 
rated in,  609  n.  ;  tlu;  copyriglit  of, 
6()9  ;  the  Edinburgh  lieview's  un- 
kind criticism  of,  669  and  note, 
670 ;  Mr.  Frere  advises  C.  to 
finish,  ()74  ;  69(). 

Christianit;/,  the  one  true  Philosophy 
(C.'s  magnum  opus),  outline  of, 
632,  63.3  ;  fragmentary  remains  of, 
632  n. ;  the  sole  motive  for  C.'s 
Tvi.sh  to  live,  ()68 ;  J.  H.  Green 
helps  to  lay  the  foundations    of, 


079  n. ;  694,  753  ;  plans  for,  772, 

773. 
Christian  Observer,  653  n. 
Christmas  Carol,  A,  330. 
Christmas  Indoors  in  North  Germany, 

257,  ^75  n. 
Christmas  Out  of  Doors,  257. 
Christmas-tree,    the    German,    289, 

29(J. 
Christ's  Hospital,  C.'s  life  at,  18-22 ; 

173  n. 
Christ's   Hospital  Five  and   Thirty 

Years  Ago,  by  Charles  Lamb,  20 

n. 
ChrisVs  Hospital,  List  of  Exhibition- 
ers, from  1566-1885,  41  n. 
Chronicle, Morning,  111 n.,  114, 116n., 

119  n.,  126,    162,    167,  505,  506, 

606  n.,  615,  616. 
Chubb,  Mr.,  of  Bridgwater,  231. 
Church,  The  Book  of  the,  by  Southey, 

724. 
Church,  the  English,  135,  306,  651- 

653,  676,  757. 
Church,  the  Scottish,  in  a  state  of 

ossification,  744,  745. 
Church,  the  Wesleyan,  769. 
Cibber,  Colley,  and  his  son,  Theoph- 

ilus,  693. 
Cibber,  Theophilus,  his  reply  to  his 

father,  693. 
Cintra,  Wordsworth's  pamphlet   on 

the  Convention  of,  534  and  note, 

543   and  note ;  C.'s  criticism    of, 

548-550. 
Clagget,  Charles,  70  and  note. 
Clare,  Lord,  ()38. 

Clarke,  Mrs.,  the  notorious,  543  n. 
Clarkson,  Mrs.,  592. 
Clarkson,    Thomas,    36.3.   398 ;    his 

History   of   the   Abolition    of  the 

Slave    Trade,   b'21  and  note,  528- 

530;  liis  character,  529,  5;;0;  C.'a 

re\'iew   of    his    book,    5;]5,    536 ; 

538  n.,   547,  548  ;  on    tlie  second 

rupture  between  C.   and  A^'ords- 

worth,  599  n. 
Clement,  Mr.,  a  bookseller,  548. 
Clergyman,  an  earnest  young,  691, 
Clevedon,  C.'s  honeymoon  at,  1.30. 
Clock,   a  motto  for  a  market,    553 

and  note,  554  n. 
Coates,  Matthew,  441  n. ;  his  belief 

in  the  impersonality  of  the  deity, 

444;  letter  from  C,  441. 
Coates,  Mrs.  Matthew,  442,  443. 


782 


INDEX 


Cobham,  GT^l  n. 

Cole,  Mrs.,  271. 

Coleorton,  ^f<'morials  of,  300  n.,  440. 

Coleorton  Fanulioiise,  C.'s  visit  to 
the  Wordsworths  at,  .OU'J-514. 

Coleri(l{;e,  Anne  (sister  —  usually 
called  "Nancy  "),  8  and  note,  21, 
21). 

Coleridg'e,  Berkeley  (son),  birth  of, 
247  and  note,  248,  24'.) ;  taken  with 
smallpox,  2.V.)  n.,  2()U  n.  ;  2()2,  207, 
272 ;  death  of,  247  n.,  282-287, 
289. 

Coleridffe,  David  Hartley  (son  — 
usually  called  "Hartley"),  birth 
of,  109;  170,  205,  218,  220, 
231,  245,  200-202,  207  n.,  289, 
296,  305,  318;  his  talkativene.ss 
and  boisterousness  at  the  age  of 
three,  321  ;  his  theologico-astro- 
nomical  hypothesis  as  to  stars, 
323  ;  a  pompous  remark  by,  332  ; 
illness,  342,  343 ;  early  astro- 
nomical observations,  342, 343  ;  an 
extraordinary  creature,  343,  344  ; 
345  n.,  355,  350  n.,  359 ;  a  poet 
in  spite  of  bis  low  forehead,  395  ; 
408,  413,  410,  421  ;  at  seven  years, 
443;  plans  for  his  education,  4()1, 
462  ;  408,  508  ;  visits  the  Words- 
worths  at  Coleorton  Farmhouse 
■with  his  father,  509-514 ;  as  a 
traveller,  509 ;  his  character  at 
ten  years,  510,  512;  511  ;  under 
his  father's  sole  care  for  four  or 
five  months,  5 11  n.  ;  spends  five 
or  six  weeks  with  his  father  and 
the  Wordsworths  at  Basil  Mon- 
tagu's house  in  London,  .511  n.  ; 
portraits  of,  511  n.  ;  521 ;  his  ap- 
pearance, behavior,  and  mental 
acuteness  at  the  age  of  thirteen, 
504  ;  at  fifteen,  570,  577  ;  at  Mr. 
Dawes's  school,  570)  and  note, 
577 ;  583  n.  ;  friendly  relations 
with  his  cousins,  ()75  and  note  ; 
C.  asks  Poole  to  invite  him  to 
Stowey,  075 ;  visits  Stowey,  075 
n. ;  684,  721.720;  letter  of  ad- 
vice from  S.  T.  C,  511. 

Coleridge,  Derwent  (son  of  S.  T.  C. 
and  father  of  the  editor),  birth 
baptism  of,  338  and  note  ;  344, 
and  355,  359  ;  learns  his  letters, 
393,  395  ;  408,  413,  410  ;  at  three 
years,    443;    462,    408,    521;    at 


nine  years,  504 ;  at  eleven  years, 
570,  577  ;  at  Mr.  Dawes's  school, 
570  and  note,  577 ;  580,  (iOo  n., 
071  n.  ;  John  llnokham  Frere's 
assistance  in  sending  him  to  Cam- 
bridge, 075  and  )iote  ;   707,  711. 

Coleridge,  Miss  Edith,  070  n. 

Coleridge,  Edward  (brother),  7,  53- 
55,  099  n. 

Coleridge,  Rev.  Edward  (nephew), 
724  n. ;  letters  from  C,  724,  738, 
744. 

Coleridge,  Frances  Duke  (niece),  726 
and  note,  740. 

Coleridge,  Francis  Syndercombe 
(brother),  8,  9,  11,  12,  13;  his 
boyish  qnarrel  with  S.  T.  C,  13, 
14  ;  becomes  a  midshipman,  17  ; 
dies,  53  and  note. 

Coleridge,  Frederick  (nephew),  50. 

Coleridge,  Rev.  George  (brother), 
7,  8  ;  his  character  and  ability,  8 ; 
12,21  n.,25  n. ;  his  lines  to  Genius, 
Ibi  Hcr;c  Jmondita  Solus,  43  n. ; 
59 ;  bis  self-forgetting  economy, 
65  ;  extract  from  a  letter  from  J. 
Flampin,  70  n.  ;  95,  97  n.,  98  and 
note,  201 ;  visit  from  S.  T.  C.  and 
his  wife,  305  n.,  30(i ;  467,  498  n., 
512 ;  disapproves  of  S.  T.  C.'s 
intended  separation  from  bis  wife 
and  refuses  to  receive  him  and  his 
family  into  his  house,  523  and 
note  ;  099  n. ;  approaching  death 
of,  740-748 ;  S.  T.  C.'s  relations 
with,  747,  748 ;  letters  from  S.  T. 
C,  22,  23,  42,  53,  55,  .59,  GO,  02- 
70,  103,  239. 

Coleridge,  the  Bev.  George,  To,  a 
dedication,  223  and  note. 

Coleridge,  Rev.  George  May  (ne- 
phew), his  friendly  relations  with 
Hartley  C,  075  and  note ;  letter 
from  C,  740. 

Coleridge,  Harllci/,  Poems  of,  511  n. 

Coleridge,  Henry  Nelson  (nephew 
and  son-in-law),  3,  553  n.,  570  n., 
579  n.,  744-740 ;  sketch  of  his 
life,  750  n. ;  letter  from  S.  T.  C, 
750. 

Coleridge,  Mrs.  Henry  Nelson  (Sara 
Coleridge),  9  n.,  10."]  n.;  extract 
from  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Words- 
worth, 220  n. ;  320  n.,  327  n.,  572  n. 

Coleridge,  James,  the  yoimger, 
(nephew),  liis  narrow  escape,  50. 


INDEX 


783 


Coleridj^e,  Colonel  James  (brother), 
7,  54,  56,  01,  :jUG,  724  n.,  72G  n.; 
letter  from  IS.  T.  C,  01. 

Coleridge,  Mrs.  James  (sister-in- 
law),  740. 

Coleridge,  John  (brother),  7. 

Coleridge,  John  (grandfather),  4, 
5. 

Coleridge,  Mrs.  John  (mother),  5  n., 
7,  lo-17,  21  n.,  2.>,  50  ;  letter  from 
S.  T.  C,  21. 

Coleridge,  Rev.  John  (father),  5  and 
note,  0,  7,  10-12,  15,  10 ;  dies,  17, 
18  ;  his  character,  18. 

Coleridge,  John  Duke,  Lord  Chief- 
Justice  (great-nephew),  572  n., 
699  n.,  743  n. 

Coleridge,  Sir  John  Taylor  (nephew), 
his  friendly  relations  with  Hartley 
C,  675  and  note;  editor  of  The 
Quarterhj  Review,  7^50  and  note, 
737  ;  his  judgment  and  knowledge 
of  the  world,  7o;l  ;  delighted  with 
Aids  to  Reflection,  T^Vd;  740  n., 
744,  745;  letter  from  S.  T.  C, 
734. 

Coleridge,  Luke  Herman  (brother), 
8  21   22 

Coleridge,  Samuel  Taylor,  his 
autobiographical  letters  to  Thomas 
Poole,  3-18  ;  ancestry  and  parent- 
age, 4-7 ;  birth,  0,  9  and  note ; 
his  brothers  and  sister,  7-9 ;  chris- 
tened, 9  ;  infancy  and  childhood, 
9-12 ;  learns  to  read,  10 ;  early 
taste  in  books.  1 1  and  note,  12 ; 
his  dreaminess  ami  indisposition  to 
bodily  activity  in  childhood,  12  ; 
boyhood,  12-21  ;  lias  a  dangerous 
fever,  12-13;  quarrels  with  his 
brother  Frank,  runs  away,  and  is 
found  and  brought  back,  13-15 ; 
his  imagination  developed  early 
by  the  reading  of  fairy  tales,  10 ; 
a  Christ's  Hospital  Presentation 
procured  for  him  by  Judge  Dul- 
ler, 18;  visits  liis  maternal  uncle, 
Mr.  John  Bowdon,  in  London,  18, 
19 ;  becomes  a  Blue-Coat  boy,  19  ; 
his  life  at  Christ's  Hospital,  20-22  ; 
enters  Jesus  College,  Cambridge, 
22,  23  ;  becomes  acquainted  with 
the  Evans  family,  23  and  note, 
24  ;  writes  a  Greek  Ode,  for  wliioli 
he  obtains  the  Browne  g'old  medal 
for  1792,  43  and  note ;  is  matric- 


ulated as  pensioner,  44  and  note  ; 
his  examination  for  the  Craven 
Scholarship,  45  and  note,  4(5 ;  his 
temperament,  47  ;  takes  violin  les- 
sons, 49  ;  enlists  in  the  army,  57 
and  note  ;  nurses  a  comrade  who 
is  ill  of  smallpox  in  the  Henley 
workhouse,  58  and  note ;  his  en- 
listment disclosed  to  his  family, 
57  n.,  58,  59;  remorse,  59-01,  04, 
65  ;  arrangements  resulting  in  his 
discharge,  01-70  ;  his  religious  be- 
liefs at  twenty-one,  OS,  09 ;  re- 
turns to  the  university  and  is  pun- 
ished, 70,  71 ;  drops  his  gay  ac- 
quaintances and  settles  down  to 
hard  work,  71 ;  makes  a  tour  of 
North  Wales  with  Mr.  J.  Hucks, 
72-81 ;  falls  in  love  with  Miss 
Sarah  Fricker,  81 ;  proj)oses  to  go 
to  America  with  a  colony  of  panti- 
socrats,  81,  88-91,  101-103  ;  his  in- 
terest in  Miss  Fricker  cools  and 
his  old  love  for  Mary  Evans  re- 
vives, 89;  his  indolence,  103,  104; 
on  his  own  poetry,  112  ;  considers 
going  to  Wales  with  Southey  and 
others  to  found  a  colony  of  pan- 
tisocrats,  121,  122;  his  love  for 
Mary  Evans  proves  hopeless,  122- 
120 ;  in  lodgings  in  Bristol  after 
having  left  Cambridge  without 
taking  his  degree,  133-135;  mar- 
ries Miss  Sarah  Fricker  and  spends 
the  honeymoon  in  a  cottage  at 
Clevedon,  136  ;  breaks  with  South- 
ey, 13(5-151  ;  happiness  in  early 
married  life,  139 ;  his  tour  to  pro- 
cure subscribers  for  the  Watch- 
man, 151  and  note,  152-154 ;  pov- 
erty, 154,  155  ;  receives  a  commu- 
nication from  Mr.  Thomas  Poole 
that  seven  or  eight  friends  have 
imdertaken  to  subscribe  a  certain 
sum  to  be  paid  annually  to  him  as 
the  author  of  the  monody  on  Chat- 
terton,  158  n. ;  discontinues  the 
Watchman,  158;  takes  Charles 
Lloyd  into  his  home,  l(i8-170; 
birth  of  his  first  child,  David 
Hartley,  169 ;  considers  starting 
a  day  school  at  Derby,  170  and 
note  ;  has  a  severe  .attack  of  neu- 
ralgia for  which  he  takes  lau- 
danum, 173-170;  early  use  of 
opium  and  beginning  of  the  habit. 


'84 


INDEX 


173  n. ,  174  n. ;  selects  twenty-eight 
soDiicts  by  liiuiselt'j.Soutliey, Lloyd, 
Lamb,  and  otlu'is  and  luuj  tlieni 
pr-vati'ly  printed,  to  be  bound  uj) 
with  Bowles's  sonnets,  177,  -0(i 
and  note  ;  his  description  of  him- 
self in  17'.U),  ISO,  bSI  ;  liis  pei'sonal 
appearance  aa  described  by  an- 
other, ISO  11.,  iSln. ;  anxious  to 
take  a  cottag'e  al  Netlier  tStowey 
and  support  himself  by  <;ardenin<v, 
184-l'.i4;  makes  aiTang-ements  to 
carry  out  this  plan,  "JOS) ;  his  par- 
tial reconciliation  with  Southey, 
210,  21 L ;  in  the  cottage  at  Nether 
Stowey,  21o;  his  engagement  as 
tutor  to  the  children  of  Mrs.  Evans 
of  Darley  Hall  breaks  down, 
215  n.  ;  his  visit  at  Mrs.  Evans's 
house,  21(5 ;  daily  life  at  Nether 
Stowey,  219,  220;  visits  Words- 
worth at  Racedown,  220  and  note, 
221 ;  seciu-es  a  house  (Alfoxden) 
for  Wordsworth  near  IStowey,  224  ; 
visits  him  there,  227  ;  finishes  his 
tragedy,  Osorio,  2o  1 ;  sus^jected  of 
conspiracy  with  Wordsworth  and 
Tlielwall  against  the  government, 
2o2  n. ;  accepts  an  annuity  of  i.'  150 
for  life  from  Josiah  and  Thomas 
Wedgwood,  2."34  and  note,  2o5 
and  note  ;  declines  an  otter  of  the 
Unitarian  pastorate  at  Shrews- 
bury, 2;]5  and  note,  2-]C> ;  writes 
Joseph  Cottle  in  reg'ard  to  a  third 
edition  of  his  poems,  239 ;  rup- 
ture with  Lloyd,  2:5S,  245  n.,  24(; ; 
fir.st  recourse  to  opium  to  relieve 
distress  of  mind,  245  n.  ;  birth  of 
a  second  child,  Berkeley,  247 ; 
temporary  estrang-ement  from 
Lamb  caused  by  Lloyd,  249-25.") ; 
poos  to  Germany  with  William 
Wordsworth,  Dorothy  ^Voids- 
worth.  and  John  Chester,  for  the 
purpose  of  study  and  observation, 
25S-2(i2  ;  life  enpcnaion  with  Che.s- 
ter  in  the  family  of  a  German  pas- 
tor at  Ratzeburg',  after  parting 
from  the  Wordsworths  at  Ham- 
burg'. 2(52-278 ;  loaniiug  the  Ger- 
man language,  202,  2(i-;.  2(>7,  2('>S  ; 
writes  a  poem  in  German.  2(i;]  ; 
proposes  to  proceed  to  (jiittingen, 
2(iS-27n;  proposes  to  write  a  life 
of  Leasing,  270 ;  travels  by  coach 


from  Ratzeburg  to  Gottingen, 
pa-ssing  through  H.anover,  2/8- 
2>>0  ;  enters  the  University,  2S1  ; 
receives  word  of  the  death  of  his 
little  son,  Berkeley,  2S2-2s7 ; 
learns  the  Gothic  and  Theotuscan 
languages,  29S  ;  reconcili.ition  with 
Southey.  after  tlie  return  from 
Germany,  303,  ;»!)4  ;  with  liis  wife 
and  child  he  visits  the  houtheysat 
Exeter,  305  and  note ;  accompa- 
nies Southey  on  a  walking-tour  in 
Dartnio(»r.  ;!(I5  and  note  ;  makes  a 
tour  of  tlie  Lake  Country,  312  n., 
313;  in  London,  writing  for  the 
Morning  l^ost,  315-332;  life  at 
Greta  Hall,  near  Keswick,  335- 
444 ;  proposes  to  write  an  essay  on 
the  elements  of  poetry,  338,  347 ; 
proposes  to  study  chemistry  with 
William  Calvert  as  a  fellow-stu- 
dent, 345-347  ;  proposes  to  write 
a  book  on  the  originality  and 
merits  of  Locke,  llobbes,  and 
Hume,  349,  850 ;  spends  a  week 
at  Scarborough,  riding  and  bath- 
ing for  his  health,  3()l-3()3;  di- 
vides the  winter  of  1801-1802  be- 
tween London  and  Nether  Stowey, 
365-3(JS ;  domestic  unhappiness, 
36(j ;  writes  the  ()<le  to  Dejection, 
addressing  it  to  Wordsworth,  378- 
384  ;  discouraged  about  his  poetic 
faculty,  3'^S ;  a  se]iar,ation  from 
liis  wife  considered  and  harmony 
restored,  3''^9,  390  ;  makes  a  walk- 
ing-tour of  the  Lake  Country, 
3'. '3  and  note,  3i)4  ;  makes  a  tour 
of  South  AVales  with  Thom;is  and 
Sarah  Wedgwood,  410-414;  his 
regimen  at  this  time,  412,  413, 
41(5,  417  ;  birtli  of  his  daughter 
Sara,  410  ;  with  Cli.irles  and  Mary 
L.aml)  in  London.  421,  422  ;  takes 
Mary  Lamb  to  the  private  mad- 
house at  Ilugsdcn,  422;  his  tour 
in  Scotland,  4:51-441  ;  love  for 
and  delight  in  his  children,  443 ; 
visits  Wordsworth  at  Grasmere 
and  is  taken  ill  there,  4-17,  448 ; 
his  rapid  recovery,  451  ;  plans  and 
prep,nr;itions  for  going  abroad, 
447-409:  his  mental  attitude  to- 
wards his  wife.  4('S;  voyage  to 
Malta,  409-481  ;  dislike  of  his  own 
first  name,  470, 471 ;  life  in  Malta, 


INDEX 


785 


481-4S4 ;  a  Sicilian  tour,  485  and 
note,  48*)  and  note,  487;  in  Malta 
aj;aui,  487-4;IT  ;  his  duties  as  Act- 
ing- Public  Secretary  at  Malta, 
487,  4yi,  49:3,  4y4  and  note,  4il5- 
4.>7;  his  g-rief  at  Captain  John 
Wordsworth's  death,  4u4  and  note, 
4i)5  and  note,  4'.>7  ;  in  Italy,  41(8- 
502  ;  i-eturiis  to  England,  5U1 ;  re- 
mains in  and  about  London,  writ- 
ing political  articles  for  tlie  Cou- 
rier, 5Uo-5UL) ;  invited  to  deliver  a 
course  of  lectures  at  the  Royal 
Institution,  i')U7  ;  visits  the  Words- 
worths  at  Coleortou  J'arnihouse 
with  his  son  Hartley,  M.}-'j14; 
spends  five  or  six  weeks  with 
Hartley  in  the  company  of  the 
Wordswortlis  at  Basil  Montagu's 
house  in  London,  511  n. ;  outlines 
Lis  coui-se  of  lectures  at  the  Royal 
Institution,  515,  510,  522 ;  begins 
his  lectures,  525 ;  a  change  for 
the  better  in  health,  habits,  and 
spirits,  the  result  of  his  placing 
himself  under  the  care  of  a  phy- 
sician, 5;]o  and  note,  543  n. ;  with 
tlie  Wordsworths  at  Grasnieie, de- 
voting hinist-lf  to  the  publication 
of  The  Frietid,  533-559 ;  in  Lon- 
don, 504 ;  determines  to  place 
himself  under  the  care  of  Dr. 
John  Abernethy,  5(:)4,  565 ;  visits 
the  Morgans  in  Portland  Place, 
Hammersmith,  500-575;  life- 
masks,  death-mask,  busts,  and 
portraits,  571)  and  note,  572  and 
not^s  ;  last  visit  to  Greta  Hall  and 
the  Lake  roiintrv,  575-578  ;  mis- 
understanding with  Wordsworth, 
570  n..  577,  578,  58()-588;  visits 
the  Morg.nns  at  No.  71  Berners 
Stre(!t,  57i)-(il2  ;  ))rpparations  for 
another  course  of  lectures,  57'.', 
580,  582,  585  ;  writes  Wordsworth 
lettei-s  of  explanation,  588-595 ; 
his  Lectures  on  tlie  Drama  at  Wil- 
lis's Rooms,  595  antl  notes,  590, 
597,  599 ;  reconciled  with  ^Vords- 
worth,  590,  597,  599 ;  second  rup- 
ture witlr  Wordsworth,  599  n., 
600  n. ;  Josiah's  half  of  the  Wedg- 
wood annuity  withdraw'n  on  ac- 
count of  C.'s  abu.se  of  opium,  602, 
611  and  note;  successful  produc- 
tion of  his  tragedy,  Remorse  (Oso- 


rio  rewritten),  at  Drury  Lane  The- 
atre, 002-011  ;  sells  a  part  of  his 
library,  010  and  note ;  anguish 
and  remorse  from  the  abuse  of 
opium,  610-621,  623,  624;  at 
Bristol,  021-020;  propo.ses  to 
translate  Faust  for  John  Murray, 
624  and  note,  625,  020 ;  convales- 
cent, 031 ;  with  the  Morgans  at 
Asldey,  near  Box,  031  ;  writing  at 
his  projected  great  work.'  Chris- 
tianity,  the  one  true  Fhilosojihy, 
032  and  note,  033  ;  with  the  Mor- 
gans at  Mr.  Pages,  Calne.  Wilts, 
041-053  ;  resolves  to  free  himself 
from  his  opium  habit  and  arranges 
to  enter  the  house  of  James  Gill- 
man,  Esq.,  a  surgeon,  in  High- 
gate  (an  arrangement  vhich  ends 
only  with  bis  life).  (i57-<)59  ;  sub- 
mits his  drama  Zapoliia  to  the 
Drury  Lane  Committee,  and,  after 
its  rejection,  publishes  it  in  book 
form,  00(i  and  note,  607-009  ;  pub- 
lishes Sibylline  Leaves  and  Bio- 
graphia  Literaria.  67-)  ;  disputes 
with  his  publishers,  Fenner  and 
Curtis,  673,  074  and  note ;  pro- 
poses a  new  Encyelopadia,  674; 
his  reputation  as  a  critic,  ()77  n. ; 
visits  Joseph  Henry  Green.  Esq., 
at  St.  Lawrence,  near  Maldon, 
690-693;  his  snuff  taking  habits, 
691,  (i92  and  note;  his  friendship 
and  correspondence  with  Thomas 
Allsop,  ()95,  69() ;  delivers  a  course 
of  Lectures  on  the  History  of  Phi- 
losophy at  the  Crown  and  Anchor, 
Strand,  ()\^^  and  note  ;  criticises 
his  portrait  by  Thomas  Phillips, 
()99,  700;  at  the  seashore,  700, 
701  ;  a  candidate  for  associateship 
in  the  Royal  Society  of  Literature, 
720),  727  ;  elected  as  a  Royal  As- 
sociate, 728;  at  Ramsgate,  729— 
731  ;  prepares  and  publishes  Aids 
to  BeJIectioii.  734  n.,  738  ;  reads  an 
Essay  on  the  Promethfus  of  ^'Eschy- 
Ills  before  the  Royal  Society  of 
Literature,  739,  740  ;  another  visit 
to  Ramsgate,  742-744 ;  takes  a 
seven  weeks'  continental  tour  with 
Wordsworth  and  his  daughter, 
751  ;  illness,  754—75(5,  75S ;  con- 
valescence, 700,  701  ;  begins  to  see 
a  new  edition  of  his  poetical  works 


78G 


INDEX 


through  the  press,  709  n. ;  writes 
a  letter  to  his  godchild  from  his 
deathbed,  775,  7To. 

Coleridge,  Early  Recollections  of,  by 
Joseph  Cottle,  l;Jll  n.,  14U  n.,  1.")! 
n.,  -Ji;)  n.,  -SVl  n.,  251  u.,  OIG  n., 
017  11..  (i:!',  n. 

Coleridge,  Life  of  by  James  Gill- 
man,  3,  20  n.,  2;i  n.,  24  n.,  45  n., 
40  n.,  171  n.,  257,  (iSO  n.,  701  n. 

Coleridge,  Samuel  Taylor,  by  James 
Dykes  Cam^jbell,  209  n.,  527  n., 
672  11.,  000  n.,  OJl  ii., 05o  n.,  (iOO  u., 
607  n.,  074  n.,  (iSl  n.,  084  n., 
698  n.,  752  n.,  758  n.,  772  n. 

Coleridge,  Samuel  Taylor,  and  the 
English  Romantic  School,  by  Alois 
Braiidl,  25S,  ()74  n.,  740  n. 

Coleridge,  S.  T.,  Letters,  Conversa- 
tions, and  Recollections  of,  by 
Thoniiis  Allsop,  41  ii.,  527  n., 
G75  11.  ;  the  publication  of,  re- 
garded by  C.'s  friends  as  an  act  of 
bad  faith,  090  and  note,  721  n. ; 
09S  n. 

Coleridge,  S.  T.,  Spiritual  Phi- 
losophy, founded  on  the  Teaching  of, 
by  J.  H.  Green,  080  n. 

Coleridge's  Logic,  article  in  The 
Athen'cum,  753  n. 

Coleridge  and  Southey,  Reminiscences 
of,  by  Joseph  Cottle,  208  n.,  209  n., 
417.  450  n.,  017  n. 

Coleridf^e.  Mrs.  8amnel  Taylor 
(Sarah  Fricker,  afterwards  called 
"  Sara  "),  edits  the  second  edition 
of  liiographia  Literaria,  -i ;  loO, 
145,  14t),  150,  151  ;  illness  and  re- 
covery of,  155,  150;  1*)S;  birth  of 
her  first  child,  l^avid  Hartley, 
109;  174  n.,  181,  188-190,  2;).5, 
2ir>,  214,  210,  224,  245;  birth  of 
her  saconi  child,  Berkeley,  247- 
j  249 ;  257,  25S,  259  n.  ;  extract 
from  a  letter  to  S.  T.  C,  208  n. ; 
1  extract  from  a  letter  to  Mrs. 
Lovell.  207  n. ;  271,  297,  812  n., 
318,  818,  821,_  825,  820,  882; 
birth  and  baptism  of  her  third 
child.  Derwent,  '■i'^'^  and  note  ;  her 
devotion  saves  his  life.  -i'-iS  n.  ; 
387 ;  fears  of  a  separation  from 
her  husband  operate  to  restore 
harinimv,  8>9,  890  ;  her  faults  as 
detailed  by  S.  T.  C,  8S9,  890; 
392,  893  n.,  395,  390  j  birth  of  a 


daughter,  Sara,  416;  418,  443, 
457,  407,  490,  491,  521 ;  extract 
from  a  letter  to  Poole,  570  n. ; 
578  ;  John  Kenyon  a  kind  friend 
to,  089  11.  ;  letters  from  S.  T.  C, 
259-20(i,  271,  277,  284,  288,  367, 
410,  420,  481,  400,41)7,480,  490, 
507,  509,  50.8,  579,  5S8,  002  ;  let- 
ter to  S.  T.  ('.  after  her  little 
Berkeley's  death,  282  n. 

Coleridge,  Sara  (daughter),  her  birth 
41(i ;  in  infancy,  448  ;  at  the  age 
of  nine,  575,  5Tt) ;  580,  721 ;  mar- 
ries her  cousin,  Henry  Nelson  C, 
750  n.  See  Coleridge,  Mrs.  Henry 
Nelson. 

Coleridge,  Sara,  Memoir  and  Letters 
of,  401  n.,  75S  n. 

Coleridge,  the  Hundred  of,  in  North 
Devon,  4  and  note. 

Coleridge,  the  Parish  of,  4  n. 

Coleridge,  William  (brother),  7. 

Coleridge,  William  Hart  (nephew, 
afterwards  Uishoji  of  Barbadoes), 
befriends  Hartley  C,  075  n.  ;  707  ; 
his  portrait  by  Thomas  Pliillips, 
R.  A.,  749  and  nota. 

Coleridge,  William  Rennell,  699  n. 

Coleridge  family,  origin  of,  4  n. 

Collier,  John  Payne,  575  n. 

Collins,  William,  his  Ode  on  the  Po- 
etical Character,  190 ;  his  Odes, 
818. 

Collins,  William,  A.  R.  A.  (after- 
ward, R.  A.),  letter  from  C, 
<i98. 

Colman,  George,  the  younger,  genius 
of,  ()21  ;  his  Who  wants  a  Guinea  ? 
021  n. 

Columbus,  the,  a  vessel,  730. 

Combe  Florey,  308  n. 

Comberbacke,  Silas  Tomkyn,  C.'s 
assumed  name,  62. 

Comic  Drama,  the  downfall  of  the, 
010. 

Complaint  of  Ninathoma.  The,  51. 

Concerning  Poetry,  a  proposed  book, 
847,  88(),  887. 

Condones  ad  Populum,85  n.,  101  n., 
KiO,  454  n..  527  n. 

Confessions  of  an  Enquiring  Spirit, 
originally  addressed  to  Rev.  Ed- 
w.ard  Coleridge,  724  n.  ;  750  n. 

Coniston.  ;)94. 

Conntdiiid  Rupture.  On  a  late,  17'9  n. 

Consciousness  of  infants,  283. 


INDEX 


787 


Conservative  Party  in  1832,  the,  757. 

Consolation,  a  note  of,  IKJ. 

Consolations  and  Comforts,  etc.,  a 
projected  book,  452,  453. 

Constant,  Benjamin,  his  tract  On  the 
Strength  of  the  Existing  Govern- 
ment of  France,  and  the  Necessity 
of  supporting  it,  219  and  note. 

Contempt,  C.'s  definition  of,  1U8. 

Contentment,  Motives  of,  by  Arch- 
deacon Paley,  47. 

Conversation,  C.'s,  181, 752  and  note  ; 
C.'s  maxims  of,  244. 

Conversation  evenings  at  the  GiU- 
mans',  740,  741,  774. 

Cookson,  Dr.,  Canon  of  Windsor  and 
Rector  of  Forncett,  Norfolk,  311 
and  note. 

Copland,  400. 

Cordomi,  a  pseudonym  of  C.'s,  295  n. 

Cornhill  Magazine,  345  n. 

Cornish,  Mr.,  GO. 

Corry,  Kight  Hon.  Isaac,  390  and 
note. 

Corsham,  650,  652  n. 

Corsica,  174  n. 

Corsican  Rangers,  554. 

Cote  House,  Josiah  Wedgwood's 
residence,  C.  visits,  416  ;  455  n. 

Cottle,  Joseph,  agrees  to  pay  C.  a 
fixed  sum  for  his  poetry,  136 ; 
137 ;  his  Early  Recollections  of 
Coleridge,  130  n.,  140  n.,  151  n., 
219  n.,  232  n.,  251  n..  616  n.,  617 
n.,  633  n. ;  144,  184, 185, 191,  192, 
212 ;  his  lieminiscences  of  Cole- 
ridge and  Southey,  268  n.,  2()9  n., 
417,  456  n.,  617n. ;  his  financial 
difficulties,  319  ;  35«;  his  Malvern 
Hill,  358  ;  his  publication  of  C.'s 
letters  of  confession  and  remorse 
deeply  resented  by  C.'s  family  and 
friends,  616  n.,  617  n.  ;  convales- 
cent after  a  dangerous  illness, 
619;  letters  from  C,  133,  134, 
154,  218  n.,  220,  238,  251  n.,  616, 
619, 

Courier,  the,  230 ;  C.  writes  for, 
505,  506,  .507  n.,  .520;  .534  and 
note,  543 ;  its  conduct  during 
the  investigation  of  the  charges 
against  the  Duke  of  York  uni- 
versally extolled,  545 ;  articles 
and  recommendations  for,  567  and 
notes,  56S  ;  C  .■vs  a  candidate  for 
the  j)lace  of  auxiliary  to,  568-570 ; 


568  n. ;  C.  breaks  with,  574 ;  598, 
629  and  notes,  634  and  note; 
change  in  the  character  of,  660- 
662,  ()64;  C.  proposes  to  write  on 
the  Catholic  question  for,  660, 
662  ;  arrangements  for  the  pro- 
posed articles,  664,  665. 

Courier  office,  C.  lodges  at  the,  505, 
520. 

Cowper,  William,  "  the  divine  chit- 
chat of,"  197  and  note ;  his  Task, 
242  n. 

Craven,  Countess  of,  86  n. 

Craven  Scholarship,  C.'s  examina- 
tion for  the,  45  and  note,  46. 

Crediton,  5  n.,  11. 

Critical  Review,  185,  489. 

Criticism  welcome  to  true  poets,  402. 

Crompton,  Dr.,  of  Derby,  215  ;  letter 
from  Thelwall  on  the  Wedgwood 
annuity,  234  n. 

Crompton,  Mrs.,  of  Derby,  215. 

Crompton,  Mrs.,  of  Eaton  Hall,  758. 

Crompton,  Dr.  Peter,  of  Eaton  Hall, 
359  and  note,  758  n. 

Cruikshank,  Ellen,  165. 

Cruikshank,  John,  136,  177, 184,  188. 

Cruikshank,  Mrs.  John  (Amia),  177; 
lines  to,  177  n. ;  213.  See  Bucld, 
Miss. 

Cryptogram,  C.'s,  597  n. 

Cunningham,  Rev.  J.  W.,  his  Velvet 
Cushion,  (i51  and  note. 

Cupid  turned  Chymist.  54  n.,  56. 

Currie,  James,  359  and  note. 

Curse  of  Kehama,  The,  by  Sou  they, 
684. 

Curtis,  Rev.  T.,  partner  of  Fenner, 
C.'s  publisher,  his  ill-usage  of  C, 
674. 

Cuxhaven,  259. 

Dalton,  John,  457  and  note. 
Darner,  Hon.  Mrs.,  'ACi^^. 
Dana,  Miss  R.  Charlotte,  572  n. 
Dante  and    his    Divina    Commedia, 

676,  ()77  and  note,  678,  679,  731 

n.,  732. 
Danvers,    Charles,   his   kindness   of 

heart.  31(i. 
Dark  Ladie.  The  Ballad  of  the,  .375. 
Darnley,  Earl,  ()2'.l. 
Dartmoor,   a   walking-tour    in,   305 

and  note. 
Dartmouth.  305  and  note. 
Darwin,  Dr.  Erasmus,  C.'s  conversa- 


788 


INDEX 


tion  with,  152,  153  ;  his  philoso- 
phy of  insincerity,  1(>1  ;  C.'s  opin- 
ion of  his  poems,  1(J4  ;  211;  the 
first  litirarv  diaractcr  in  Europe, 
and  tlie  most  origimd  -  minded 
man. 'Jl.j;  ;:!iS(5,  04.S. 

Dash  Ueck,  •]~'>  n.,  o70  n. 

Davy,  :;ir  Humphry,  ;n 5-317,  321, 
324,  3-0,  344,  ;jr>(t,  357,  3(i5,  379 
n.,  44S  ;  a  Theo-maninionist,  455  ; 
45() ;  C.  attends  his  lectures,  4(i2 
and  notu,  4t)3 ;  C.'s  esteem  and 
admiration  for.  514;  liis  success- 
ful eliorts  to  induce  C.  to  give  a 
course  of  lectures  at  tlie  Royal 
Institution,  515,  5 Hi;  seriously 
ill,  51:0,  521  ;  hears  from  C.  of  his 
improvement  in  healtii  and  habits, 
533  n.  ;  ()73  n.  ;  letters  from  C, 
330-341.  345,  514. 

Davy,  Sir  Ilumphri/,  Fragmentary 
Bemains  of,  edited  by  Dr.  Davy, 
343  n.,  533  n. 

Dawe,  George,  R.  A.,  his  life-mask 
and  portrait  of  C,  572  and  note ; 
his  funeral  and  C.'s  epigram  there- 
on, 572  n. ;  immortalized  by 
Lamb,  572  n.  ;  engaged  on  a  pic- 
ture to  illustrate  C.'s  poem.  Love, 
573  ;  his  admiration  for  Allston's 
modelling,  573  ;  his  character  and 
manners,  581 ;  a  fortunate  grub, 
605. 

Dawes,  Rev.  John,  teacher  of  Hart- 
ley and  Derwent  C,  570  and  note, 
577. 

Death,  fear  of,  responsible  for  many 
virtues,  744  ;  the  nature  of,  702, 
703. 

Death  and  life,  meditations  on,  283- 
287. 

Death-mask  of  C,  a,  570  n. 

Death  of  Mattathias,  The,  by  Robert 
Southey,  108  and  note. 

Deism,  religious.  414. 

Dejection :  A  n  Ode,  378  and  note, 
370  and  note,  380-384,  405  n. 

Delia  Cruscanism,  106. 

Democracy,  C.  disavows  belief  in, 
104- 1 05" ;  1  ;U,  243.  See  Republi- 
canism and  Pantisocracy. 

Denbigh,  SO,  81. 

Denman,  Miss,  769,  770. 

Dentist,  a  French,  40. 

De  Quincey,  Thomas,  405  n.,  525  ; 
revises  the  proofs  and  writes  an 


appendix  for  Wordsworth's  pam- 

j)blet  On  the  Convention  of  Cintra, 

540,  5.JU  n. ;  503,  001,  772  n. 
Derby,    152 ;    jjroposal    to   start   a 

school  in,  170  and  note  ;  188  ;  the 

people  of,  215  and  note,  210. 
Derwent,  the  river,  339. 
Descartes,  Ren^,  351  and  note. 
Destiny   of  Nations,    The,    278   n., 

178  n. 
Deutschland  in  seiner  iiffsten  Ernie- 

driguiig.    by   John    Philip    Palm, 

C.'s  translation  of,  530. 
De   Yere,   Aubrey,  extract   from   a 

letter   from    iSir  William  Rowan 

Hamilton  to,  759  n. 
Devil's  Thoughts,  The,  by  Coleridge 

and  Southey,  318. 
Devoek  Lake,  393. 
Devonshire,  305  and  note. 
Devonshire,   Georgiana,   Duchess  of, 

Ode  to,  320  and  note,  330. 
Dibdin,  Mr.,  stage-manager  at  Dniry 

Lane  Theatre,  660. 
Disappointment,  To,  28. 
Dissuasion  from  Popery,  by  Jeremy 

Taylor.  039. 
Divina    Commedia,   C.    praises   the 

Rev.  H.   F.  Gary's  translation  of, 

676,  677  and  note,  678,  679  ;   Ga- 

briele     Rossetti's    essay    on    the 

mechanism  and  interpretation  of, 

732. 
Doctor,  The,  583  n.,  584  n. 
Doling,  Herr  von,  279. 
Dove,  Dr.  Daniel,  583  and  note,  584. 
Dove  Cottage,  Grasmere,  379  n.    See 

Grasmere. 
Dowseborough,  22.5  n. 
Drakard,  John,  5(i7  and  note. 
Drayton,   Michael,  his  Poly-Olbion, 

374  n. 
Dreams,  the  state  of  mind  in.  603. 
Drury  Lane  Theatre,   C.'s   Zajmlya 

before  the  committee  of,  666  and 

note,  ()67. 
Drvden,  John,  his  slovenly  verses, 

(i72. 
Dubois,  Edward,  705  and  note. 
Duchess,    Ode  to  the,  320  and  note, 

330. 
Dunmow,  Essex,  4.56,  459. 
Duns  Scot  us.  358. 
Dupuis,  Charles  Francois,  his  Origine 

de  tons  les  Cidtes,  ou  Religion  JJni- 

verselle,  181  and  note. 


INDEX 


789 


Diu'ham,  Bishop  of,  582  and  note. 

Durham,  C.  reading  Duns  Scotus  at, 
35S-;361. 

Duty,  495  n. 

Dyer,  George,  84,  93,  316,  317;  his 
article  on  JSouthey  in  Public  Char- 
acters/or 1799-1800, 317  and  note  ; 
3(53,  Vl'I ;  sketch  of  his  life,  748  n. ; 
C.'s  esteem  and  affection  for,  748, 
749 ;  his  benevolence  and  benefi- 
cence, 749  ;  letter  from  C,  748. 

Earl  of  Abergavenny,  the  •wreck  of, 
494  n. ;  495  n. 

Early  liecollections  of  Coleridge,  by 
Joseph  Cottle,  139  n.,  140  n., 
151  n.,  2 19  n.,  232  n.,  251  n.,  016  n., 
617  n.,  633  n. 

Early  Years  and  Late  Ttecollections, 
by  Clement  Cai-lyon,  M.  D.,  258, 
298  n. 

East  Tarbet,  431,  432  and  note,  433. 

Echoes,  409  n. 

Edgeworth,  Maria,  her  Helen,  773, 
774. 

Edgeworth,  Richard  Lovell,  262. 

Edgevvorth's  Essay  on  Education, 
261. 

Edgeworths,  the,  very  miserable 
when  children,  262. 

Edinburgh,  a  place  of  literary  gos- 
sip, 423;  C.'s  visit  to,  434-440; 
Southey's  first  impressions  of, 
438  n. 

Edinburgh  Review,  The,  438  u.  ; 
Soutliey  declines  Scott's  offer  to 
secure  him  a  place  on,  521  and 
note,  522 ;  its  attitude  towards 
C,  527  ;  C.'s  review  of  Clarkson's 
book  in.  527  and  note,  528-.530  ; 
630.  6:57  ;  severe  review  of  Chris- 
tabel  in,  6t)9  and  note,  670 ;  Jef- 
frey's reply  to  C.  in,  609  n.  ;  re- 
echoes C.'s  praise  of  Cary's  Dante, 
677  n. ;  its  broad,  predetermined 
abuse  of  C,  697,  72'5 ;  its  influ- 
ence on  the  .sale  of  Wordsworth's 
books  in  Scotland,  741,  742. 

Edmund  Oliver,  by  diaries  Lloyd, 
drawn  from  C.'s  life,  252  and 
note;  311. 

Education,  Practical,  by  Richard 
Lovell  Edgeworth  and  Maria 
Edgeworth,  261. 

Education  through  the  imagination 
preferable  to   that   which   makes 


the  senses  the  only  criteria  of  be- 
lief, 16,  17. 
Edwards,  Rev.  Mr.,  of  Birmingham, 
extract  from  a  letter  from  C.  to, 
174  n. 

Edwards,  Thomas,  LL.  D.,  101  and 
note. 

EgTemont,  393. 

Egypt,  Observations  on,  486  n. 

Egypt,  political  relations  of,  492. 

Eichhom,  Prof.,  of  Gottingen,  298, 
504,  7i)7,  773. 

Einbeck,  279,  280. 

Elbe,  the,  2.59,  277. 

Electrometers  of  taste,  218  and  note. 

Elegy,  by  Robert  Southey,  115. 

EUeray,  535. 

Elliot,  H.,  Minister  at  the  Court  of 
Najjles,  508  and  note. 

EUiston,  ilr.,  an  actor.  Oil. 

Elmsley,  Rev.  Peter  438  and  note, 
439. 

Encyclopaidia  Metropolitana,  a  work 
projected  by  C,  674,  081. 

Encyclopiedias,  427,  429,  430. 

Ennerdale,  393. 

Epitaph,  by  C,  769  and  note,  770, 
771. 

Epitaph,  by  Wordsworth,  284. 

Erigena,  Joannes  Scotus,  417;  the 
modern  founder  of  the  school  of 
pantheism,  424. 

Ei-skine,  Lord,  his  Bill  for  the  Pre- 
vention of  Cruelty  to  Animals, 
035  and  note. 

Erste  Schiffer,  Der  (The  First  Navi- 
gator), by  Gesner,  309,  371,  372, 
.•!7(>-378,  397,  402,  403. 

Eskdale,  39; J,  401. 

Essai/  on  Animal  Vitality,  by  Thel- 
wall,  179.  212. 

Essay  on  Fasting,  157. 

Essay  on  the  New  French  Constitu- 
tion, 320  and  note. 

Essay  on  the  Prometheus  of  ^schy- 
Ins,  7-10  and  note. 

Essay  on  the  Science  of  Method,  081 
and  note. 

Essai/s  on  Ilis  Own  Times.  156  n., 
157  n.,  320  n.,  327  n.,  329  n..  335 
n.,  414  n.,  498  n.,  567  n.,  029  n., 
034  n. 

Essat/  on  the  Fine  Arts,  633  and  note, 
634. 

Essays  upon  Epitaphs,  by  Words- 
worth, 585  and  note. 


790 


INDEX 


Estlin,  Mrs.  J.  P.,  100,  213,  214. 

Estlin,  Kev.  J.  P.,  184,  ksr,,  UIO,  2.30. 
2S7,  2SS  ;  his  sernions,  oS'> ;  4 Id  ; 
lettei-s  from  C,  213,  245,  240,  414. 

Ether,  41:0,  435. 

Etna,  458,  485  n.,  4S(i  n. 

Evans.  Mrs.,  C.  spends  a  fortnight 
with,  23  and  note;  24;  C.'s  filial 
regard  for,  2(),  liT  ;  her  unselfish- 
ness, 40  ;  letters  from  C,  20,  3'J, 
4.j. 

Evans,  Anne,  27,  20-31  ;  letters 
from  C,  37,  52. 

Evans,  Eliza,  78. 

Evans,  Mrs.  Elizabeth,  of  Darley 
Hall,  her  proposal  to  engage  C. 
as  tutor  to  her  children,  215  n. ; 
her  kindness  to  C.  and  Mrs.  C, 
215  n.,  210  ;  231,  307. 

Evans.  Mary,  23  n.,  27,  30;  an  acute 
mind  beneath  a  soft  surface  of 
feminine  delicacy,  50  ;  C.  sees  her 
at  Wrexham  and  confesses  to 
Southey  his  love  for  her,  78  ;  97 
and  note  ;  song  addressed  to,  100  ; 
C.'s  unrequited  love  for,  123-125  ; 
letters  from  C,  30,  41,  47,  122, 
124  ;  letter  to  C,  87-89. 

Evans,  Walter,  231. 

Evans,    William,    of    Darley   Hall, 

215  n. 
Evolution,  048. 
Examiner,    The,   its    notice   of   C.'s 

tragedy,  llemorse,  00(). 
Excursion,     The,    by    Wordsworth, 
244  n.,  337  u.,  -585  n.,  C.'s  opinion  of, 
641;  the  Edinburgh  Review's  crit- 
icism of,  042;   C.   discusses  it  in 
the  light  of  his  previous  expecta- 
tions, 045-1)50. 
Exeter,  305  and  note. 
Ezekiel,  705  n. 

Faith,  C.'s  definition  of,  202 ;  204. 
Fall  of  Robespierre,  The,  85  and  note, 

87,  93,  104  and  notes. 
Falls  of  Foyers,  the,  440. 
Farmer,  I'riscilla,  Poems  on  the  Death 

of,   by   Charles    Lloyd,    200  and 

note. 
Farmers,  335  n. 

Farmhouse,  by  Robert  Lovell,  115. 
FastiiH/.  Essay  on,  157. 
Faidkmr :   a    Tragedy,  by  William 

Godwin.  524  and  note. 
Fauntleroy's  trial,  730, 


Faust,  C.'s  proposal  to  translate,  624 

and  note,  (i25,  020. 
Favell,   Robert,  80,  109  n.,  110  n., 

1 13,  225  and  note. 
Fayette,  112. 
Fears  in  Solitude,  published.  201  n.  ; 

318,  321,  328,  552,  703  and  note. 
Fellowes,  Mr.,  of  Nottingham,  153. 
Female    Biography,   or    Memoirs   of 
Illustrious  and  Celebrated  Women, 
by  Mary  Hayes,  318  and  note. 
Fenner,  Rest,  publishes  Zapolya  for 
C,   titU;  n.  ;  his  ill-usage  of  C.  in 
regard  to  Sibylline  Leaces,  Biogra- 
phia  Literaria,  and  the  projected 
Encyclopedia  Metropolitana,  073, 
074  and  note. 
Fenwick,  Dr.,  301  and  note. 
Fenwick,  Mrs.  E.,  405  and  note. 
Fernier,  John,  211. 
Fichte,  Johann  Gottlieb,  the  pbilo- 

sophv  of,  082,  683,  735. 
Field,  Mr.,  93. 
Fine  Arts,  Essays  on  the,  633  and 

note,  034. 
Fire,   The,  by  Robert  Southey,  108 

and  note. 
Fire  and  Famine,  327. 
First  Landing  Place,  The,  084  n. 
First  Navigator,  The,  translation  of 
Gesner's  Der  Erste  Schiffer,  309, 
371,  372,  370-378,  397,  402,  403. 
Fitzgibbon.  John,  038. 
Fletcher,  Judge,  C.'s   Courier  Let- 
ters to,  029  and  note,  034  and  note, 
035,  030,  042. 
Florence,  499  n. 

Flower,     Benjamin,    editor    of    the 
Cambridge    Intelligencer,   93    and 
note. 
Flower,    The,   by   George    Herbert, 

095. 
Flowers,  745,  740. 
Fort  Augustus,  435. 
Foster-Mother's  Tale,  The,  510  n. 
Fox,  Charles  James,  his  Letter  to  the 
Westminster    Electors,    50  ;    ;!27  ; 
Coleridge   versus,   423,   424  ;  pro- 
posed articles  on,  505  ;  500  ;  death 
of,  507  and  note ;  029  and  note. 
Fox,  Dr.,  ()19. 
Foyers,  the  Falls  of,  440. 
Fragment  found  in  a  Lecture  Room, 

A,  44. 
Fragments  of  a  Journal  of  a  Tour 
I      over  the  Bracken,  257. 


INDEX 


791 


France,  political  condition  of,  in 
1800,  329  and  note. 

France,  an  Ode,  'Ml  n.,  552. 

Freeling,  bir  Francis,  751. 

French,  C.  not  proficient  in,  181. 

French  Constitution,  Essay  on  the 
New,  ;)"iO  and  note. 

French  Empire  under  Buonaparte, 
C.'s  essays  on  the,  ((29  and  note. 

French  Revolution,  the,  21i),  240. 

Frend,  William,  24  and  note. 

Frere,  George,  072. 

Frere,  Right  Hon.  John  Hookham, 
072  and  note  ;  advice  and  friendly 
assistance  to  C.  from,  (i74,  075  and 
note;  ()98,  7ol,  732,  737. 

Frieker,  Mrs.,  98,  189 ;  C.  proposes 
to  allow  her  an  annuity  of  £20, 
190 ;  423,  458. 

Frieker,  Edith  (afterwards  Mrs. 
Robert  Southey),  82  ;  marries 
Southey,  137  n.  ;  103  n.  See 
Southey,  Mrs.  Robert. 

Frieker,  George,  315,  316. 

Frieker,  Mai-tha,  600. 

Frieker,  Sarah,  C.  falls  in  love  with, 
81;  83-86  ;  C.'s  love  cools,  89  ; 
marries  C,  1.36 ;  138,  103  n. ;  letter 
from  Southey,  107  n.  See  Cole- 
ridge, Mrs.  Samuel  Taylor. 

Friend,  The,  11  n.,  25  n.,  80  n.,  257, 
274  n.,  275  n.,  351  n.,  404  n.,  412  n., 
453  n.,  454  n. ;  preliminary  prospec- 
tus of,  and  its  revision,  533, 530  and 
note, 537-541 ,542n. ;  arrangements 
for  the  publication  of,  541,  542  and 
note,  .544,  540,  547  ;  its  vicissitudes 
during  its  first  eight  months,  547, 
548,  551,  552,  554-559  ;  Addison's 
Spectator  compared  with,  557, 
558 ;  the  reprint  of,  575,  579  and 
note,  .580  n.,  585  and  note  ;  600, 
611,  029  and  note,  0:!0.  0()7  n. ; 
J.  H.  Frere's  advice  in  regard  to, 
674  ;  the  object  of  the  third  vol- 
ume of,  670 ;  684  n. ;  697,  756  n., 
768  and  note. 

Friends,  C.  complains  of  lack  of 
sj"mpathy  on  the  part  of  his,  696, 
097. 

Friend's  Quarterly  Examiner,  The, 
536  n.,  538  n. 

Frisky  Sonr/sttr.  The.  237. 

Frost  at  Midnight,  8  n.,  201  n. 

Gale  and  Curtis,  579  and  note,  580  n. 


Gallow  Hill,  359  n.,  362,  379  n. 

Gallows  and  hangman  in  Germany, 
294. 

Gardening,  C.  proposes  to  undertake, 
183-194;  C.  begins  it  at  Nether 
Stowey,  213  ;  reconmiended  to 
Thelwall,  215  ;  at  Nether  Stowey, 
219,  220. 

Gebir,  328. 

Gentleman's  Magazine,  The.  455  n. 

Georgiana,  Buchtss  of  Devonshire, 
Ode  to,  320  and  note,  330. 

German  language,  the,  C.  learning, 
262,  263,  267,  -Lm. 

German  philosophers,  C.'s  opinions 
of,  681-(i83,  735. 

German  playing-cards,  263. 

Gemians,  their  partiality  for  Eng- 
land and  the  Eiiglisli,"  203,  264; 
their  eating  and  smoking  customs, 
276,  277 ;  an  unlovely  race,  278  ; 
their  Christmas-tree  and  otJier 
religious  customs,  289-292  ;  super- 
stitions of  the  baners,  1:9],  292, 
294 ;  marriage  customs  of  the 
bauers,  292,  293. 

Germany,  257,  258  ;  C.'s  sojourn  in, 
259-300 ;  post  coaches  in,  278, 
279  ;  the  clergy  of,  291  ;  Protest- 
ants and  Catholics  of,  291,  292; 
bell-ringing  in,  293 ;  churches  in, 
293 ;  shepherds  in,  293  ;  care  of 
owls  in,  293  ;  gallows  and  hang- 
man in,  294 ;  disposal  of  dead  and 
sick  cattle  in,  294  ;  beet  sugar  in, 
299. 

Gerrald,  Joseph,  161  and  note,  166, 
167  n. 

Gesenius,  Friedrich  Heinrich  Wil- 
helra,  773. 

Ge.sner,  his  Erste  Schiffer  (The  First 
Navigator),  369,  371,  :')72.  37<>- 
378,  397,  402, 403  ;  his  rhythmical 
prose,  398. 

Ghosts.  084. 

Gibraltar,  4(!9,  473, 474  ;  description 
of,  475-479  ;  480,  493. 

Gilford,  William,  his  criticism  of 
C.'s  tragedy.  Remorse,  605,  606 ; 
<169,  737. 

Gillman.  Alexander,  703  n. 

Gillmaii.  Henry.  09:!  n 

Gillman.  James,  his  Life  of  Cole- 
ridge, .">.  20  n.,  2."!  11..  24  n..  -15  n., 
46  n.,  171  n.,  257;  <i80  n..  761  n. ; 
442  n. ;  his  faithful  friendship  for 


792 


INDEX 


C,  <>57 ;  C.  arranges  to  enter  his 
household  as  a  patient,  (JoT-Ooi) ; 
C.'s  pecuniary  obligations  to, 
658  n.  ;  eharafter  and  intellect  of, 
60.");  ()Ti)n.,  (iTV),  t)S.'>,  (;;iL',  7t»4  ; 
C.'s  gratitude  to  and  affection 
for,  721,  lS2  ;  on  C.'s  opium  habit, 
7(>1  n. ;  7<)8  ;  extracts  from  a  letter 
from  John  Sterling  to,  772  n. ; 
letter's  from  C,  0.37,  700,  721, 
72'.t,  74-'. 

Gillman,  James,  the  younger,  passes 
his  examination  for  ordination 
■with  great  credit,  7.35. 

Gillman,  Mrs.  James  (Anne),  her 
faithful  friendship  for  C,  0.57 ; 
character  of,  OO.j  ;  07!),  0S4,  GS.j, 
702  n.,  70.),  721,  722,  729,  73:3; 
illness  of,  7oS ;  C.'s  attachment  to, 
740 ;  C.'s  gratitude  to  and  affec- 
tion for,  7.54  ;  704,  774 ;  letters 
from  C,  090,  745,  754. 

Ginger-tea,  412,  413. 

Glencoe,  4i;3,  440. 

Glen  Falloch,  433. 

Gloucester,  72. 

Gnats,  0:»2. 

Godliness,  C.'s  definition  of,  203  n., 
204  ;  ht.  Peter's  paraphrase  of, 
204. 

Godwin,  William,  01,  114;  C.'s  son- 
net to,  1 10  n.,  1 17 ;  lines  by  Southey 
to,  120 ;  his  misanthropy,  101, 
102;  101  n.,  107;  C.'s  book  on, 
210;  310,  321;  his  St.  Leon,  324, 
325  ;  a  qiiarrel  and  reconciliation 
■with  C,  457,  404-400  ;  his  Faulk- 
ner :  a  Tragedij,  524  and  note  ;  C. 
accepts  his  invitation  to  meet 
Grattan,  505,  500  ;  letter  from  C. , 
505. 

Godwin,  William. :  His  Friends  and 
Contemporaries,  by  Charles  Kegan 
Paul,  101  n.,324  n.,  405  n. 

Godwin,  Mrs.  William,  405,  406, 
560. 

Goethe,  Johann  Wolfgang  von,  his 
Faust,  C.'s  proposal  to  translate, 
624  and  note,  (525,  020 ;  his  Zur 
Farhenlehre,  099. 

Gosforth,  3i)3. 

Goslar,  272,  273. 

Gottingen,  C.  proposes  to  visit,  268- 
270,  272;  2(iS  n.,  209  n. ;  C.  calls 
on  Professor  Heyne  at,  280 ;  C. 
enters  the  University  of,  281  ;  the 


Saturday  Club  at,  281 ;  the  gal- 
lows near,  294  ;  C.'s  stay  at,  281- 
300. 

Gough,  Charles,  309  n. 

Governments  as  effects  and  causes, 
241. 

Grasmere,  335,  346,  3(52,  379  n.,  394, 
405  n.,  419,420;  C  visits  and  is 
taken  ill  there,  447,  448;  C.  visits, 
533-.5(59.     See  Kendal. 

Grattan,  Henry,  C.'s  admiration  for, 
5(50. 

Greek  Islands,  the,  329. 

Greek  poetry  contra.sted  with  He- 
brew poetry,  4o5,  4(J(). 

Greek  Sapphic  Ode,  On  the  Slave 
Trade,  43  and  note. 

Green,  Mr.,  clerk  of  the  Courier.,  568 
and  note. 

Green,  Joseph  Henry,  605,  632  n. ; 
his  eminence  in  the  surgical  pro- 
fession, (579  n. ;  C.'s  amanuensis 
and  coUaborateur,  079  n. ;  C  ap- 
points him  liis  literary  executor, 
079  n. ;  his  published  works,  (579  n., 
680  n. ;  his  character  and  intel- 
lect, (J80  n.  ;  his  faithful  friend- 
ship for  C,  689  n.  ;  his  Spiritual 
Philosophy,  founded  on  the  Teach- 
ing of  S.  T.  Coleridge,  OSO  n. ;  re- 
ceives a  visit  from  C.  at  St.  Law- 
rence, near  Maldon,  (59(MS93  ; 
753  n.  ;  letters  from  C,  (5(5it,  680, 
688,  (599,  704,  706,  726,  728,  751, 
7.54,  7(57. 

Green.  Mrs.  Joseph  Henry,  691,  692, 
699,  705. 

Greenough,  Mr.,  458  and  note. 

Greta,  the  river,  339. 

Greta  Hall,  near  Keswick,  C.'s  life 
at,  33>5-444 ;  situation  of,  335 ; 
description  of  391,  392  ;  C.  urges 
Southey  to  make  it  his  home,  391, 
392,  394,  395  ;  Southey  at  first  de- 
clines but  subsequent! v  accepts 
C.'s  invitation  to  settle  there,  395 
n.  ;  Southey  makes  a  visit  there 
which  proves  permanent,  435  ;  4150 
n.  ;  sold  by  its  owner  in  C.'s  ab- 
sence, 490,  491  ;  C.'s  last  visit  to, 
575  and  note,  57(5-578  ;  724,  725. 
<See  Keswick. 

Grey,  Mr.,  editor  of  the  Morning 
Chronicle,  114. 

"  Grinning  for  joy,"  81  n. 

Grisedale  Tarn,  547. 


INDEX 


793 


Grose,  Judge,  567  and  note. 
Crossness  versus  suggestiveness,  877. 
Group  of  Englisluiitn,  A,  by  Eliza 

Meteyard,  :^ti'.>  n.,  .'308  n. 
Growth  of  the  Individual  Mind,  On 

the,   C.'s   extempore   lecture,    (580 

and  note,  681. 
Guuning-,  Henry,  his  Reminiscences 

of  Cambridge,  24  n. 
Gwynne,  General,  K.  L.  D.,  02. 

Hfemony,  Milton's  allegorical  flower, 
40(5,  4U7. 

Hague,  Charles,  .50. 

Hale,  JSir  Pliilip,  a  "titled  Dog- 
berry,"' 282  n. 

Hall,  8.  C,  257,  745  n. 

Hamburg,  257,  251) ;  C.'s  arrival  at, 
2()1  ;  -'USn. 

Hamilton,  a  Cambridge  man  at 
Giittingen,  281 

Hamilton,  Lady,  087  and  note. 

Hamilton,  Sir  William  Rowan,  759 
and  note,  700. 

IIu inlet.  Notes  on,  684  n. 

Hancock's  house,  2U7. 

Hangman  and  gallows  in  Germany, 
2<J4. 

Hanover,  270,  280. 

Uap2^iness,  75  n. 

Happji  Warrior,  The,  by  Words- 
worth, the  original  of.  404  n. 

Harding,  Miss,  sister  of  Mrs.  Gill- 
man,  708. 

Harpers  Magazine,  570  n.,  571  n. 

Harris,  Mr.,  6ti6. 

Hart,  Dick,  54. 

Hart,  Miss  Jane,  7,  8. 

Hart,  Miss  Sara,  8. 

Hartley,  David,  113,  169,  348,  351 
n.,  428. 

Haunted  Beach,  The,  by  Mrs.  Robin- 
son, 322  n. ;  C.  struck  with,  331, 
.332. 

Hayes,  Mary,  318  and  note ;  her 
Female  Biographi/,  818  and  note  ; 
her  corrcspondi-nce  witli  Lloyd, 
322  ;  C.'s  opinion  of  her  intellect, 
32;!. 

Hazlitt,  William.  RU]>posed  to  have 
written  the  Edinburgh  Review 
criticism  of  Christabel,  6G9  and 
note. 

Hebrew  poetry  richer  in  imagina- 
tion than  the  Greek,  405,  400. 

Heiuse's  Ardinghello,  083  and  note. 


Helen,  by  Maria  Edgeworth,  773, 
774. 

Helvellyn,  547. 

Henley  workhouse,  C.  nnrses  a  fel- 
low-diagoon  in  the,  58  and  note. 

Herald.  Morning,  its  notice  of  C.'s 
tragedy,  Ixemorse,  OOo. 

Herbert,  George,  C.'s  love  for  his 
poems,  004,  005  ;  his  Temple,  694; 
his  Flower,  005. 

Heretics  of  the  Jirst  two  Centuries 
after  Christ,  Histori/  of  the,  by 
Nathaniel  Lardner,  D.  D.,  830. 

Herodotus,  788. 

Hertford,  C.  a  Blue-Coat  boy  at,  19 
and  note. 

Hess,  Jonas  Lewis  von,  555  and 
note. 

Hessey,  Mr.,  of  Taylor  and  Hessey, 
publishers,  780. 

Hexameters,  parts  of  the  Bible  and 
Ossian  written  in  slo^'enly,  808. 

Heyne,  Christian  Gottlob,  279;  C. 
calls  on,  280;  281. 

Higginbottom,  Nehemiah,  a  pseudo- 
nym of  C.'s,  251  n. 

Highgate,  History  of  by  Lloyd,  572  n. 

Highland  Girl,  to  a,  by  Words- 
worth, 540. 

Highland  lass,  a  beautiful,  432  and 
note,  450. 

High  Wycombe,  62-64. 

Hill,  Mrs.  Herbert.  See  Southey, 
Bertha. 

Hill,  Thomas,  705  and  note. 

History  of  Highgate,  by  Lloyd,  572  n. 

History  of  the  Abolition  <f  the  Slave 
Trade,  by  Thomas  Clarkson,  C.'s 
review  of,  527  and  note,  528-530, 
585,  580. 

History  of  the  Heretics  of  the  frst 
two  Ctnturies  after  Christ,  by  Na- 
thaniel Lardner,  D.  D.,  880. 

History  of  the  Levelling  Principle, 
proposed,  823,  328  n.,  880. 

Hobbes,  Thomas,  849,  850. 

Holcroft,  Mr.,  C.'s  conversation  on 
Panti.socracy  with,  114,115;  the 
high  priest  of  atheism,  102. 

Hold  your  mad  hands  .',  a  sonnet  by 
Southey,  127  and  note. 

Holland,  751. 

Holt,  Mrs.,  18. 

Home  -  Sick,  Written  in  Germany, 
quoted,  298. 

Homesickness   of    C.    in    Germany, 


704 


INDEX 


205,  200,  272,  273,  278,  2SS,  289, 

'iil"),  2!)(),  2!)S. 
Hood,    Tliomas,  his    Oiles  to    Great 

I'eople,  lioi)  II. 
Hope,    an     Allegorical    Sketch,    by 

liowh's,  IT'.t,  ISii. 
Hopkiii.soii.  Lieutenant,  G2. 
Horace,  Bentley's  Quarto  Edition  of, 

OS  and  note. 
Hospitality  in  poverty,  340. 
Hour  when  we  shall  meet  again,  The, 

vrt. 

Howe,  Admiral  Lord,  202  and  note. 

Howe,  Emanuel  JScoope,  second  Vis- 
count. 202  n. 

Howell,  Mr.,  of  Covent  Garden,  36G 
and  note. 

Howiek,  Lord,  t'yOI. 

Howley,  ISIiss.  l'-)'.). 

Huber's  Treatise  on  Ants,  712. 

Hucks,  J.,  accompanies  C.  on  a  tour 
in  Wales,  74-Sl  ;  bis  Toitr  in  North 
Wales,  74  n.,  81  n. ;  70,  77  and  note, 
81  and  note,  30(i. 

Hume,  David,  307,  349,  350. 

Hume,  Joseph,  M.  P.,  a  fermentive 
virus,  757. 

Hungary,  329. 

Hunt,  Leigh,  Autobiography  of,  20  n., 
41  n.,  22")  n.,  45.5  n. 

Hunter,  John,  211. 

Hurwitz,  Hyman,  007  n. ;  bis  Is- 
rael's Lament,  681  n. 

Hutchinson,  George,  358  and  note, 
359  n.,  .-UJO. 

Hutchinson,  Joanna,  359  n. 

Hutchinson,  John,  of  Penrith,  358  n. 

Hutchinson,  John,  of  the  Middle 
Tejuple,  359  n. 

Hutchinson,  Mary,  marries  William 
AVordsworth,  359  n.  ;  307. 

Hutchinson,  Sarah,  359  n.,  360,  362, 
307,  393  n. ;  ber  motherly  care  of 
Hartley  C,  510  ;  511  ;  C.'s  amanu- 
ensis, 530  n.,  542  n. ;  582,  587, 
590  n. 

Hutchinson,  Thomas,  of  Gallow 
Hill,  359  n.,  3(;2. 

Hntton,  James,  M.  D.,  153  and  note  ; 
his  Investigation  of  the  Principles 
of  Knowledge,  107. 

Hutton,  Lawrence,  570  n. 

Hutton  Hall,  near  Penrith,  290. 

Hymn  before  Sunrise  in  the  Vale  of 
Chamouni,  origin  of,  404  and  note, 
405  and  note. 


Ibi  Hcec  Incondita  Solus,  by  George 
Coleridge,  4.'!  n. 

Idolatry  of  modern  religion,  tbe,  414, 
41.5. 

lUuminizing.  323,  324. 

Illustrated  London  News,  The,  258, 
453  n.,  497  n.,  70S  n. 

Imagination,  education  of  the,  10, 
17. 

Imitated  from  the  Welsh  (a  song), 
112  and  note,  113. 

Imitations  from  the  Modern  Latin 
Poets,  07  n.,  122. 

Impersonality  of  tbe  Deity,  444. 

Indolence,  a  vice  of  powerful  venom, 
K  3,  104. 

Infant,  tbe  death  of  an,  282-287. 

Infant,  uho  died  before  its  Christen- 
ing, On  an,  287. 

Ingratitude,  C.  complaina  of,  027- 
631. 

Insincerity,  a  virtue,  101. 

Instinct,  definition  of,  712. 

In  the  Pass  of  Killicranky,  by  Words- 
worth, 458. 

Ireland,  Account  of  by  Edward 
Wakefield,  038. 

Ireland,  View  of  the  State  of,  by 
Edmund  Spenser,  (i38  n. 

Irving,  Rev.  Edward,  723  ;  a  great 
orator,  72(5 ;  on  Sonthev  and  By- 
ron, 720  ;  741,  742,  744,"  748,  752. 

Isaiah,  200. 

Israel's  Lament,  by  Hyman  Hur- 
witz, C.  translates,  681  and  note. 

Jackson,  Mr.,  owner  of  Greta  Hall, 
335,  308,  391,  392,  394,  395,  434, 
4(i0  and  note,  401 ;  godfather  to 
Hartley  C,  4(51  n. ;  sells  Greta 
Hall,  491  ;  Hartley  C.'s  attach- 
ment for.  510. 

.lackson,  William,  309  and  notes. 

Jackstraws.  402,  408. 

Jacobi,  Iloinrieh  Freidrich,  683. 

Jacobinism  in  England,  042. 

Jardine,  Kev.  David.  l.">9  and  note. 

Jasper,  by  Mrs.  Robinson,  322  n. 

Jeffrey,  Francis  (afterwards  Lord), 
453  n.,  521  n.  ;  C.  accuses  bira  of 
being  unwarrantably  severe  on 
him,  527 ;  536  n.,  538  n. ;  C.'s 
accusation  of  personal  and  un- 
generous animosity  against  him- 
self and  his  reply  thereto,  009  and 
note,   670 ;  735 ;  his   attitude  to- 


INDEX 


795 


ward  Wordsworth's  poetry,  742 ; 
letters  from  C,  527,  528,  534. 
See  Edinburgh  lieview. 

Jerdan,  Mr.,  of  Michael's  Grove, 
Bi-ompton,  727. 

Jesus  College,  C.'slife  at,  22-57,  70- 
72,  81-129. 

Jews  in  a  German  inn,  280. 

Joan  of  Arc,  by  Southey,  141, 149, 
178  and  note,  179 ;  Cottle  sells 
the  copyright  to  Longman,  319. 

John  of  Milan,  56(5  n. 

Johnson,  J.,  the  bookseller,  lends  C. 
£30,  2()1  ;  publishes  Fears  in  Soli- 
tude, for  C,  2G1  and  notes,  318  ; 
321. 

Johnson,  Dr.  Samuel,  on  the  condi- 
tion of  the  mind  during  stage  rep- 
resentations, ()(>>. 

Johnston,  Lady,  731. 

Johnston,  Sir  Alexander,  7.30  and 
note  ;  C.'s  impressions  of,  731. 

Josephus,  407. 

Kant,  Iramanuel,  204  n.,  351  n. ; 
C.'s  opinion  of  the  philosophy  of, 
681,  682;  his  Krilik  der  praktisch- 
en  Vernunft,  (iSl,  682  and  note  ; 
his  Religion  innerhalb  der  Grenzen 
der  hlossen  Vernunft,  682  ;  valued 
by  C.  more  as  a  logician  than  as  a 
metaphysician,  735  ;  his  Critique 
of  the  Pure  Reason,  735. 

Keats,  John,  764  n. 

Keenan,  Mr.,  369. 

Keenan,  Mrs.,  309  and  note. 

Kehama,  The  Curse  of,  by  Southey, 
684. 

Kempsford,  Gloucestershire,  267  n. 

Kendal,  447,  451,  452,  535,  575. 
See  Grasmere. 

Kendall.  Mr.,  a  poet,  306. 

Kennard,  Adam  Steinmetz,  762  n. ; 
letter  from  C,  775. 

Kennard,  John  Peirse,  762  n. ;  letter 
from  C,  772. 

Kenyon,  Mis.,  630,  640. 

Kenyon,  Jolin,  639  n.  ;  letter  from 
C.;639. 

Keswick,  174  n. ;  C.  passes  through, 
during  his  firet  tour  in  the  Lake 
Country,  312  n. ;  a  Uruidical 
circle  near,  312  n.  ;  C.'s  house  at, 
335 ;  climate  of,  361 ;  405  n., 
530,  535,  724,  725.  See  Greta 
Hall. 


Keswick,  the  lake  of,  335. 

Keswick,  the  vale  of,  312  n.,  313 
n.  ;  its  beauties,  410,  411. 

Kielmansegge,  liaron,  and  his  daugh- 
ter, Mary  Sophia,  263  n. 

Kilmansig,  Countess,  C.  becomes 
acquainted  with,  262,  263. 

King,  Mr.,  183,  185,  186. 

King,  Mrs.,  183. 

Kingsley,  Kev.  Charles,  771  n. 

Kingston,  Uuchess  of,  her  masque- 
rade costume,  237. 

Kinnaird,  Douglas,  666,  667- 

Kirkstone  Pass,  a  storm  in,  418- 
420. 

Kisses,  54  n. 

Klopstock,  Friedrich  Gottlieb,  257  ; 
his  Messias,  .j72,  373. 

Knecht,  Rupert,  289  n.,  290,  291. 

Knight,  Rev.  William  Angus,  LL.D., 
his  Life  of  William  Wordsworth, 
164  n.,  220  n.,  447  n.,  585  n.,  591 
n.,  596  n.,  599  n.,  600  n.,  733  n., 
759  n. 

Kosciusko,  C.'s  sonnet  to,  116  n., 
117. 

Kotzebue's  Count  Benyoioski,  or  the 
Conspiracy  of  Kandsrhatka,  a 
Trayi-comedy.  236  and  note. 

Kubla  Khan,  when  written,  245  n. ; 
437  n. 

Kyle,  John,  the  Man  of  Ross,  77, 
651  n. 

Lake  Bassenthwaite,  335,  376  n. ; 
sunset  over,  384. 

Lake  Country,  the,  C.  makes  a  tour 
of,  312  n.,  313  ;  another  tour  of, 
393  and  note,  394  ;  C.'s  last  visit 
to,  57.5  n.  See  Grasmere,  Greta 
Hall,  Kendal,  Keswick. 

Lalla  Rookh,  by  Moore,  672. 

Lamb,  C,  To,  128  and  note. 

Laiiil),  diaries,  love  of  Woolman's 
Journal,  4  n.  ;  visit  to  Nether 
Stowey,  10  n. ;  his  Christ's  Hospi- 
tal Five  and  Thirty  Yfars  Ago, 
20  n.  ;  a  man  of  uncommon  genius, 
111;  writes  four  lines  of  a  sonnet 
for  C,  111,  1)2  and  note  ;  and  his 
sister,  127,  128;  C.'s  linos  to,  128 
and  note  ;  16.'>  n  ;  correspondence 
with  C.  after  his  (Lanib"s)  mother's 
tragic  death,  171  and  note;  182; 
extract  from  a  letter  toC,  197  n. ; 
206    n. ;    his    Grandame,   206   n. ; 


796 


INDEX 


C.'s  poem  on  Bums  addressed  to, 
20(5  and  note,  2U7  ;  extract  from 
a  letter  to  C,  -'2-i  n.  ;  visits  C  at 
Nether  Stowey,  lili4  and  note,  2;i5- 
227 ;  temporary  estrany:enient 
from  C,  24'J-20;J  ;  his  relations 
to  the  quarrel  between  C.  and 
Southey,  'o04,  312,  ."320  n. ;  visits 
C.  at  Greta  Hall  with  his  sister, 
3l)(J  u.  ;  a  Latin  letter  from,  400 
n  ;  40.')  n.,  421,  422,  4GU  n.,  474  ; 
his  Berollections  of  a  Late  liotjal 
Acatlemician,  072  ii.  ;  his  connec- 
tion with  the  reconciliation  of  C. 
and  AVordsworth,  5St>-.'j88,  594 ; 
on  William  Elake's  paintings,  en- 
gravings, and  poems,  (i8(i  n. ;  704  ; 
his  ISuperannuuted  Man.  740  ;  744  ; 
his  acquaintance  with  George 
Dyer,  74S  n.  ;  751  n.,  7U0 ;  letter 
of  condolence  from  C,  171  ;  other 
letters  from  C,  24i),  586. 

Lamb,  Charles,  Letters  of,  164  n., 
171  n.,  197  n.,  396  u.,  4UU  n.,  465 
n.,  466  n.,  6S()  n.,  748  n. 

Lamb's  Prose  Works,  4  n.,  20  n.,  25 
n.,  41  n. 

Lamb.  Mary,  127, 128,  226  n.  ;  visits 
the  Coleridges  at  Greta  Hall  with 
her  brotlier  Charles,  3!)(i  n. ;  be- 
comes worse  and  is  taken  to  a 
private  madhouse,  422 ;  465 ; 
learns  from  C.  of  his  quarrel  with 
Wordsworth,  590,  591  ;  endeavors 
to  bring  about  a  reconciliation  be- 
tween C.  and  Wordsworth,  594  ; 
704. 

Lampedusa,  island,  essay  on,  495  and 
note. 

Landlord  at  Keswick,  C.'s,  335. 
See  Jackson,  Mr. 

Lardner,  Nathaniel,  D.  D..  his  Letter 
on  the  Logos,  157  ;  his  History  of 
the  Hereiirs  ofthejirst  two  Centuries 
after  Christ,  330  ;  on  a  passage  in 
Josephus,  407. 

Latin  essay  by  C,  29  n. 

Laudanum,  used  by  C.  in  an  attack 
of  neuralgia,  173  and  note,  174 
and  note,  175-177  ;  193,  240,  617, 
()59.     .See  Opium. 

Lauderdale,  James  Maitland,  Earl 
of,  ()8'.>  and  note. 

Law,  luiman  a-s  distinguished  from 
divine,  635,  (i36. 

Lawrence,   Miss,  governess  in   the 


family   of   Dr.   Peter   Crcmpton, 

758  n.  ;   letter  from  C,  758. 

Lawrence,  William,  711  n. 

Lawson,  8ir  Gilford,  270;  C.  has 
free  access  to  his  library,  336 ; 
392. 

Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel,  The,  by 
fcjcott,  523. 

Lay  Stniion,  the  second,  ()69. 

Leacli,  A\'illiam  Elford,  C.  meets, 
71 1  and  note. 

Lecky,  G.  F.,  Britisli  Consul  at 
^^yracuse,  458  ;  C.  entertained  by, 
485  n. 

Lectures,  C.'s  at  the  Royal  Institu- 
tion, 506  n.,  507,  508,  511,  515, 
51(J,  522,  525  ;  at  the  rooms  of  the 
London  Philosophical  Society,  574 
and  note,  575  and  note  ;  a  pro- 
po.sed  coui'se  at  Liverpool,  578  ; 
preparations  for  another  course  in 
London,  579,  580,  582,  585 ;  at 
Willis's  Rooms  on  the  Drama, 
595  and  note,  596,  597,  599 ;  602, 
604 ;  an  extempore  lecture  On  the 
Growth  of  the  Individual  Mind,  at 
the  rooms  of  the  London  Philo- 
sophical Society,  680  and  note, 
(i8l  ;  regarded  as  a  means  of  live- 
lihood, 694 ;  on  the  History  of 
Philosophy,  delivered  at  the  Crown 
and  Anchor,  Strand,  ()98  and  note. 

Lectures  on  Shah sjieare.  575  n. 

Lectures  on  Shakespeare  and  Other 
Dramatists,  756  n. 

Leghorn,  498,  499  and  note,  500. 

Le  Grice,  Charles  Valentine,  23,  24 ; 
his  Tineum,  111  and  note;  225 
and  note,  325. 

Leibnitz,  Gottfried  Wilhelm,  Baron 
von,  280,  360,  735. 

Leighton,  Robert,  Archbishop  of 
Glasgow,  his  genius  and  character, 
717,  718;  his  orthodoxy,  719;  C. 
proposes  to  compile  a  volume  of 
selections  from  his  writings,  719, 
720 ;  C.  at  work  on  the  comjnla- 
tion,  which,  together  witli  his  own 
comment  and  corollaries,  is  finally 
published  as  Aids  to  Refection, 
734  and  note. 

Leslie,  Charles  Robert,  695  and 
note ;  his  pencil  sketch  of  C, 
695  n. ;  introduces  a  portrait  of  C. 
into  an  illustration  for  The  Anti- 
quary, 736  and  note. 


INDEX 


797 


proposes  to 


Lessing,    Life    of,    C 

write,  270;  321,  323. 
Letters,  C.s  reluctance  to  open  and 

answer,  534. 
Letters  from  the  Lake  Poets,  25  n., 

86  n.,  2GTn.,  30(in.,  369  n.,  527  n., 

534  n.,  542  n.,  543  n.,  705  n. 
Letter  smuggling-,  459. 
Letters   on   the   iSjJaniards,  629    and 

note. 
Letter  to  a  Noble  Lord,  by  Edmund 

Burke,  157  aud  note. 
Leviathan,  the  man-of-war,   467 ;  a 

majestic  and    beautiful   creature, 

471.  472;  477. 
Lewis  Monk,  his  play,  Castle  Spectre, 

236  and  note,  237,  238,  (526. 
Libertji,  the  Progress  of,  20(). 
Life  aud  death,  meditations  on,  283- 

287. 
Life-masks  of  C,  570  and  note. 
Lime-Trte  Bower  my    Prison,   this, 

225  and  note,  226  and  notes,  227, 

228  n. 
Lines  on  a  Friend  who  died  of  a  Frenzy 

Fever,  98  and   note,    103  n.,    106 

and  note. 
Lines  to  a  Friend,  8  n. 
Lippincott's  Magazine,  674  n. 
Lisbon,  the  Kock  of,  473. 
Literary  Life.     See  Biographia  Lite- 

raria. 
Literary    Eemains,     684  n.,    740  n., 

756  n.,  761  n. 
Literature,   a   proposed   History   of 

British,  42.J-427,  429,  430. 
Literature  as  a  profession,  C.'s  opin- 
ion of,  191,192. 
Live  nits,  3,60. 
Liverpool,  578. 
Liverpool,  Lord,  665,  674. 
Llandoverv,  411. 
Llanfyllin,"  79. 
Llangollen,  80. 
Llangunnog,  79. 
Llovd,  Mr.,  father  of  Charles,  168, 

186. 
Lloyd,  Charles,  andWoolman's  Jour- 
nal, 4  n.  ;  goes  to  live  with  C,  168- 

170  ;  character  and  genius  of,  1(')9, 

170;  184,  189,  190,  102,  205,  206; 

his  Poems  on  the  Death  of  Priscilla 

Farmer,     206  n. ;    207  n.,    208  n. ; 

with  C.   at  Nether  .'^towey.  213; 

238 ;  a  serious   quarrel  with    C, 


/^/     238,    245  n.,  246,    249-253;    his 


Edmund  Oliver  drawn  from  C.'s 
life,  252  and  note  ;  his  relations 
to  the  quarrel  between  C.  and 
Southey,  304  ;  reading  Greek  with 
Christopher  Wordsworth,  311 ;  un- 
worthy of  confidence,  311,  312; 
his  Edmund  Oliver,  311  ;  his 
moral  sense  warped,  322,  323 ; 
settles  at  Ambleside,  344 ;  C. 
spends  a  night  with  him  at  Bra- 
tha,  394 ;  563 ;  his  History  of 
Highgate,  572  n.,  578. 

Llyswen,  234  n.,  235  n. 

Loch  Katrine,  431,  432  and  note, 
4"3 

Loch  Lomond,  431,  4.32  n.,  433,  440. 

Locke,  John.  C.'s  opinion  of  his  phi- 
losophy, 349-;351,  648;  713. 

Lockhart.  ilr.,  756. 

Lodore,  the  waterfall  of,  335,  408. 

Lodore  mountains,  the,  370. 

Logic,  The  Elements  of,  753  n. 

Logic,  The  History  of,  753  n. 

Logos,  Letter  on  the,  by  Dr.  Nathan- 
iel Lardner,  157. 

London,  Bisliop  of,  739  ;  his  favour- 
able opinion  of  Aids  to  Bejiection, 
741. 

London  Philosophical  Society,  C.'s 
lectures  at  the  rooms  of,  574  and 
note,  575  and  note,  680  n. 

Longman,  Mr.,  the  publisher,  319, 
321  ;  on  anonymous  publications, 
324,  325 ;  328,  329,  341,  349,,  357  ; 
loses  money  on  C.'s  translation  of 
Wallensttin.  4C3  ;  593. 

Lonsdale,  Lord,  538  n.,  550,  733  n. 

Losh,  James,  219  and  note. 

Louis  XVI.,  the  death  of,  219  and 
note. 

Love,  George  Dawe  engaged  on  a 
picture  to  illustrate  C.'s  poem, 
573. 

Love  and  the  Female  Character,  C.'s 
lecture,  574  n.,  575  and  note. 

Lovell,  Robert,  75 ;  C.'s  opinion  of 
his  poems,  110;  114;  his  Farm- 
house, 115,  121,  122,  139,  147, 150; 
dies,  159  n. ;  317  n. 

Lovell,  Bohert,  and  Bobert  Southey  of 
Balliol    College,  Bath,  Poems   by 
107  n. 

Lovell.  Mrs.  Kobert  (Mary  Fricker), 
122,  159  .and  note,  4S5. ' 

Lover^s  Complaint  to  his  Mistress,  A, 
36. 


798 


INDEX 


Low  was  our  pretty  Cot,  C.'s  opinion 
of,  224. 

Lubec,  274.  275. 

Lucretius,  his  philosophy  and  his 
poetry,  'US. 

Luff,  Captain,  •}(!!)  and  note,  547. 

Luisf,  ein  liindlichfs  Gedicht  in  drei 
Jdyllen,  by  Johann  lleinrich  Voss, 
quotation  from,  20.J  n.  ;  an  em- 
phatically original  poem,  02.j  ;  027. 

Liincburg-,  27S. 

Lushinj;-ton,  Mr.,  101. 

Luss,  4:!1. 

Lycou,  Ode  to,  by  Robert  Southey, 
107  n.,  108. 

Lyrical  Ballads,  by  Coleridge  and 
'Wordsworth,  :5:](i,  3:57,  341,  350 
and  note,  387,  007,  078. 

Macaulay,  Alexander,  death  of,  491. 

Mackintosh,  iSir  James,  his  rejected 
offer  to  procure  a  place  for  C. 
under  himself  in  India,  454,  455  ; 
C.'s  dislike  and  distrust  of,  454  n., 
455  n. ;  5'.K). 

Macklin,  Harriet,  751  and  note,  764. 

Madeira,  442,  451,  452. 

Madoc,  by  Southey,  C.  urges  its 
completion  and  publication,  314, 
4G7 ;  357 ;  C.'s  enthusiasm  for, 
388,  489,  490 ;  a  divine  passage 
of,  403  and  note. 

Mad  Ox.  r/ie,  2l9n.,  327. 

Magee,  William,  D.  D.,  701  n. 

Magnum  Opus.  See  Christianity,  the 
one  true  Philosophy. 

Maid  of  Orleans,  239. 

Malta,  C.  plans  a  trip  to,  457,  458 ; 
the  voyage  to,  409—481 ;  sojourn 
at,  481-484,  4S7-497;  army  af- 
fairs at,  554,  555. 

Maltese,  the,  483  and  note,  484  and 
note. 

Maltese,  Regiment,  the,  554,  .5.55. 

Malvern  Hills,  by  Joseph  Cottle, 
358. 

Manchester  Massacre,  the,  702  n. 

Manchineel,  223  n. 

Marburg,  291. 

Margarot,  Ififi,  167  n. 

Markes,  Rev.  Mr.,  310. 

Marriage  as  a  means  of  ensuring  the 
nutiire  and  education  of  children, 
210,217. 

Marsh,  Herbert,  Bishop  of  Peter- 
borough,   his   lecture  on   the   au- 


thenticity and  credibility  of  the 
books  collected  in  the  New  Testa- 
ment. 707.  70S. 

Martin,  Rev.  H..  71  n.,  81  n. 

Man/,  the  Maid  of  the  Inn,  by 
Southey,  223. 

Miussena,  Marshal,  defeats  the  Rus- 
sians at  Zurich,  308  and  note. 

Masy,  Mr.,  40. 

Mathews,  Charles,  C.  hears  and 
sees  his  entertainment.  At  Home, 
704,  705  ;  letter  from  C.  621. 

Maltathias,  The  Death  of,  by  Robert 
.Soutliey,  108  and  note. 

Maurice,  Rev.  John  Frederick  Den- 
nison,  771  n. 

Maxwell,  Captain,  of  the  Royal  Ar- 
tillery, 493,  495,  490. 

McKinnon,  General,  309  n. 

Medea,  a  subject  for  a  tragedy,  399. 

Meditation,  C.'s  habits  of,  ().58.  \l 

Medwin,  Capt.  Thomas,  his  Conver- 
sations of  Lord  Byron,  735  and 
note. 

Meerschaum  pipes,  277. 

Melancholy,  a  Fragment,  396  and 
note,  397. 

Memory  of  childhood  in  old  age, 
428. 

Mendelssohn,  Moses,  203  n.,  204  n. 

Men  of  the  Time,  317  n. 

Merry,  Robert,  80  n. 

Messina,  485,  486. 

Metaphysics,  102,  347-352  ;  C.  pro- 
poses to  write  a  book  on  Locke, 
Hobbes,  and  Hume,  349.  350  ;  in 
poetry,  372  ;  effect  of  the  study 
of,  388  ;  C.'s  projected  great  work 
on,  632  and  note,  633  ;  of  the  Ger- 
man philosophers.  681-683,  735; 
712,  713.  See  Christianity,  the 
One  True  Philosophy ,  Plnlosophy, 
Religion. 

Metevard,  Eliza,  her  Group  of  Eng- 
lishmen, 209  n.,  308  n. 

Method,  Essay  on  the  Science  of,  681 
and  note. 

Methuen,  Rev.  T.  A.,  652  and  note. 

Microcosm,  4.'!  and  note. 

Middleton,  H.  F.  (afterwards  Bishop 
of  Calcutta),  2:!,  25,  32,  3:',. 

Milman,  Henry  Hart.  737  and  note. 

Milton,  John,  1()4,  197  and  note  ;  a 
sublimer  poet  than  Homer  or  Vir- 
gil, 199,  200  ;  the  imagery  in  Par- 
adise   Lost    borrowed    from    the 


INDEX 


799 


Scriptures,    199,   200 ;    his  Acci- 
dence, ;>^1  ;    on   poetry,  387 ;    his 

^  platonizing  spirit,  400,  407 ;  678, 
734. 

Milton,  Lord,  567  and  note. 
V   Mind  versus   Nature,  in   youth  and 
later  life,  742,  743. 

Minor  Poems,  317  n. 

Miscellanies,  Esthetic  and  Literary, 
711  n. 

Miss  Rosamond,  by  Southey,  108  and 
note. 

Mitford,  Mary  Russell,  G3  n. 

Molly,  11. 

Monarchy  likened  to  a  cockatrice, 
73. 

Monday^s  Beard,  On  Mrs.,  9  n. 

Money,  Rev.  William,  651  n.  ;  letter 
from  C,  651. 

Monody  on  the  Death  of  Chatterton, 
noil.,  158  n.,  620  n. 

Monologue  to  a  Young  Jackass  in 
Jesus  Piece,  119  n. 

Monopolists,  335  n. 

Montagu,  Basil,  363  n.,  511  n. ; 
causes  a  misunderstanding'  be- 
tween C.  and  Wordsworth,  578, 
586-591,  593,  599,  612  ;  endea- 
vours to  have  an  associateship  of 
the  Royal  Society  of  Literature 
conferred  on  C,  726,  727  ;  his  ef- 
forts successful,  728 ;  749. 

Montagu,  Mrs.  Basil,  her  connection 
■with  the  quarrel  between  C.  and 
Wordsworth,  .588,  589,  591,  599. 

Month!  1/  Magazine,  the,  179  and  note, 
18.".,'  197,  215,  251  n.,  310,  317. 

Moore,  Thomas,  his  Lalla  Bookh, 
672 ;  his  misuse  of  the  possessive 
case,  672. 

Moors,  C.'s  opinion  of,  478. 

Morality  and  religion,  676. 

Moreau,  Jean  Victor,  449  and  note. 

Morgan.  Mrs.,  145,  148. 

Morgan,  John  James,  524,  526 ;  a 
faithful  and  zealous  friend,  580 ; 
C.  confides  the  news  of  his  quar- 
rel with  Wordsworth  to.  591,  592; 
596,  ()50.  6(;5  ;  letter  from  C,  575. 

Morgan,  Mrs.  John  James.  C.'s  affec- 
tion for,  505;  578,  000,  618,  650, 
722  n.  ;  letter  from  C,  524. 

Morgan  family,  the  (J.  J.  Morgan, 
his  wife,  and  his  wife's  sister.  Miss 
Charlotte  Brent),  C.'s  feelings  of 
affection,   esteem,    and   gratitude 


towards,  519, 520,  524-526, 565 ;  C. 
visits,  5()6-575  and  note,  579-622  ; 
585 ;  C.  confides  the  news  of  his 
quarrel  with  Wordsworth  to,  591, 
592 ;  C.  regards  as  his  saviours, 
592  ;  600  n. ;  with  C.  at  Calne, 
641-653 ;  their  faithful  devotion 
to  C,  657,  722  n. ;  letters  from  C, 
519,  524,  564. 

Mortimer,  John  Hamilton,  373  and 
note. 

Motion  of  Contentment,  by  Archdea- 
con Paley,  47. 

Motley,  J.  C.,  467-469,  475. 

Mountains,  of  Portugal,  470,  473 ; 
about  Gibraltar,  478. 

Mumps,  the,  .545  and  note. 

Murray,  Jolin,  581  ;  proposes  to  pub- 
lish a  translation  of  Faust,  &2-k- 
626  ;  his  connection  with  the  pub- 
lication of  Zapolya,  66()  and  note, 
667-61)9;  offers  C.  two  Inmdred 
guineas  for  a  volume  of  specimens 
of  Rabbinical  wisdom,  ()67  n. ; 
699  n. ;  proposal  from  C.  to  com- 
pile a  volume  of  selections  from 
Archbishop  Leightoii,  717-720  ; 
723  ;  his  proposal  to  publish  an 
edition  of  C.'s  poems,  737 ;  letters 
from  C,  624,  665,  717. 

Murray,  John,  Memoirs  o/,  624  n., 
66()  n. 

Music.  49. 

Myrtle,  praise  of  the,  745,  746. 

Mythology,  Greek  and  Roman,  con- 
trasted with  Christianity,  199, 
200. 

Nannv,  260,  295. 
Naples,  486,  502. 
Napoleon,  308, 327  n.,  329  and  note  ; 

his  animosity  against  C,  498  n. ; 

530  n. ;  C.'s  cartoon  and  lines  on, 

642. 
Napoleon  Bonaparte,  Life  of,  by  Sir 

Walter  Scott,  174  n. 
Natund  Theology,  by  William  Palev, 

424  n,,  425  n. 
Nature,  her    influence   on    the    p.as- 

sions,   243,   244  ;    Mind   and,   two 

rival  artists,  742,  74:!. 
Natur-philosophen,  C.    on   the,    682, 

6S3. 
Navigation  and  Discovery,  The  Spirit 

of  by  William  Lisle  Bowles,  403 

and  note. 


800 


INDEX 


Necessitarianism,  the  sophistry  of, 

454. 
Neighbours,  186. 
Nelson.  Lady,  ():)7. 
Nelson,  Lord.  (ioT  and  note. 
Nesbitt,    Fanny,    C.'s   poem  to,  56, 

57. 
Netherlands,  the,  751. 
Nether  IStowey,   105  and    note ;    C. 

proposes  to  move  to,  184-1'.)4;  ar- 
rangements for  moving  to,   20!); 

settled   at,  21o ;    C.'s   description 

of   his   place    at,    21.'};    Thelwall 

urged  not  to  settle  at,  2o2-2;>4  ; 

the   curate-in-charge    of,  2()7   n. ; 

2t)7,  o2o,  o«6;  C.'s  last  visit  to, 

405  n. ;  497  n. 
Neuralgia,  a  severe  attack  of,  173- 

177. 
Newcorae's  (Mr.)  School,  7,  25  n. 
Newlands,  -i'M  and  note,  411,  725. 
New  Monthly  Magazine,  257. 
Newspapers,  freshness  necessary  for, 

508. 
New  Testament,  the,  Bishop  March's 

lecture    on   the    authenticity    and 

credibility  of  the  books  collected 

in,  707,  708. 
Newton,  Mr. ,  48. 
Newton,    Mrs.,    sister    of     Thomas 

Chatterton,  221,  222. 
Newton,  Sir  Isaac,  352. 
Nightingale,    The,    a    Conversational 

Poem,  296  n. 
Ninathoma,  The  Complaint  of,  51. 
Nixon,  Miss  Eliza,  unpublished  lines 

of  C.  to,  773  n.,  774  n.  ;  letter  from 

C,  773. 
Nobs,   Dr.   Daniel  Dove's   horse,  in 

The  Doctor,  583  and  note,  584. 
No  more  the  visionary  soul  shall  dwell, 

109  and  note,  208' n. 
Nordhausen,  273. 

Northeoto,  Sir  Stafford,  15  and  note. 
Northmore,  Thomas,  C.  dines  with, 

300,  307  ;    an  offensive  character 

to  the  aristocrats,  310. 
North  Wales,  C.'s  tour  of,  72-81. 
Notes  on  Hamlet,  684  n. 
Notes  on  Noble''s  Appeal.  684  n. 
Notes     Theological     and     Political, 

684  n.,  701  n. 
Nottingham,  153,  154,  216. 
Novi,  Suwarrow's  victory  at,  307  and 

note. 
Nuremberg,  555. 


Objective,  different  meanings  of  the 
term,  755. 

Observations  on  Egypt,  486  n. 

Ocean,  the,  by  night,  200. 

Ode  in  the  manner  of  Anacreon,  An, 
35. 

Ode  on  the  Poetical  Character,  by 
William  Collins,  I'.Hi. 

Odes  to  Great  People,  by  Thomas 
Hood,  250  n. 

Ode  to  Dejection,  378  and  note,  379 
and  note,  380-384,  4()5  n. 

Ode  to  (Jeorgiana,  Duchess  of  Devon- 
shire, 320  and  note,  33;). 

Ode  to  Li/ron,  by  Robert  Southey, 
107  n.,  108. 

Ode  to  Romance,  by  Robert  Southey, 
107  and  note. 

Ode  to  the  Departing  Year,  212  n.; 
C.'s  reply  to  ThelwalTs  criticisms 
on,  218  and  note;   221. 

Ode  to  the  Duchess,  320  and  note, 
330. 

O  geritle  look,  that  didst  my  soul  be- 
guile, a  sonnet.  111,  112  and  note. 

Ogle,  Captain,  03  and  note. 

Ogle,  Lieutenant,  374  n. 

Ogle,  Dr.  Ne\4ton,  Dean  of  West- 
minster, his  Latin  Iambics,  374 
and  note. 

Oken,  Lorenz,  his  Natural  History, 
73(i. 

Old  Man  in  the  Snow,  110  and  note. 

Omniana,  by  C.  and  Southey,  9  n., 
554  n.,  718  n. 

On  a  Discovery  made  too  late,  92  and 
note,  123  n. 

On  a  late  Connubial  Bupture,  179  n. 

On  an  Infant  who  died  before  its 
Christening,  287. 

Once  a  Jacobin,  always  a  Jacobin, 
414. 

On  Revisiting  the  Sea-Shore,  361  n. 

Onstel,  97  n. 

On  the  Slave  Trade,  43  and  note. 

Opium,  C.'s  early  use  of,  and  begin- 
ning of  the  habit,  173  and  note, 
174  and  note,  175 ;  fii-st  recourse 
to  it  for  the  relief  of  mental 
distress,  245  n. ;  daily  quantity 
reduced,  413;  regarded  as  leas 
harmful  than  other  stimulants, 
413  ;  420  ;  its  use  discontinued  for 
a  time,  434,  435  ;  angiiish  and  re- 
morse from  its  abuse,  6Ui-021, 
623,  024 ;  in  order  to  free  himself 


INDEX 


801 


from  the  slavery,  C.  arranges,  to 
live  with  Mr.  James  Gillman  as  a 
patient,  G-37-t)5i) ;  a  final  effort  to 
give  up  the  use  of  it  altogether, 
700  and  note  ;  the  habit  regulated 
and  brought  under  control,  but 
never  entirely  done  away  with, 
7tJ0n.,  7(iln. 

Oporto,  seen  from  the  sea,  409,  470. 

Orestes,  by  William  Sotheby,  402, 
400,  410. 

Original  Sin,  C.  a  believer  in,  242. 

Original  Sin,  Letter  on,  by  Jeremy 
Taylor,  040. 

Origine  de  tons  les  Cukes,  ou  Re- 
ligion universelle,  by  Charles  Fran- 
cois Dupuis,  181  and  note. 
,  Origin,  Nature,  and  Object  of  the 
New  System  of  Education,  by  An- 
drew Bell,  D.  D.,  581  and  note, 
582. 

Osorio,  a  tragedy,  10  n.,  229  and 
note,  2;J1,  284  n,,  603  n.  See  Re- 
morse. 

Ossian,  hexanaeters  in,  398.. 

Otter,  the  river,  14,  l-). 

Ottery  St.  Mary,  G-8,  30.")  n.;  C. 
wished  by  his  family  to  settle  at, 
325  ;  C.'s  last  visit  to,  405  n. ;  a 
proposed  visit  to,  512,  513  ;  745  n. 

Owen,  William,  425  n. 

O  ivhat  a  loud  and  fearful  shriek  was 
there,  a  sonnet,  1 10  n.,  117. 

Owls,  care  of,  in  Germany,  293. 

Oxford  University,  C.'s  feeling  to- 
wards, 45,  72. 

Paignton,  305  n. 

Pain,  a  sonnet,  174  n. 

Pain,  C.  interested  in,  341. 

Pains  of  Sleep,  The,  435-437  and 
note. 

Paley,  William,  Archdeacon  of  Car- 
lisle, his  Motives  of  Contentment, 
47  ;  his  Natural  Theology,  424  and 
note ;  713. 

Palm,  John  Philip,  his  pamphlet 
reflecting  on  Napoleon  leads  to 
his  trial  and  execution,  5."!0  and 
note  ;  C.  translates  his  pamphlet, 
530. 

Pantisocracy,  73,  79,  81,  82,  88-91, 
101-103,  109  n.,  121,  122, 134,  135, 
138-141,  143-147,  149,  317  n., 
748  n. 

Paradise  Lost,  by  Milton,  its  imagery 


borrowed  from  the  Scriptures, 
199,  200. 

Parasite,  a,  705. 

Parliamentary  Reform,  essay  on, 
507. 

Parndon  House,  506  n.,  507,  508. 

Parret,  the  liver,  105. 

Parties,  political,  in  England,  242. 

Pasquin,  Antony,  003  and  note. 

Patience,  203  and  note. 

Patteson,  Hon.  Mr.  Justice,  726  n. 

Paul,  Charles  Kegan,  his  William 
Godwin:  His  Friends  and  Con- 
temporaries, 101  n.,  324  n.,  4(15  n. 

Pauperis  Funeral,  by  Robei't  Sou- 
they,  108  and  note,  109. 

Peace  and  Union,  byWiUiara  Friend, 
24  n. 

Pearee,  Dr.,  Master  of  Jesus  College, 
2:5,  24.  05,  70-72. 

Pedlar,  The,  former  title  of  Words- 
worth's Excursion,  337  and  note. 

Peel,  Sir  Robert,  ()89  n. 

Penche,  M.  de  la,  49. 

Penniaen  Mawr,  C.'s  ascent  of,  81  n. 

Penn,  William.  539. 

Pennington,  W.,  541,  542  n.,  544. 

Penritii.  420.  421,  .547,  548,  575  n. 

Penruddock,  420,  421. 

Perceval,  Rt.  Hon.  Spencer,  assassi- 
nation of,  597,  59S  and  note. 

Perdita,  see  Robinson,  Mrs.  Mary. 

Peripatetic,  The,  or  Sketches  of  the 
Heart,  of  Nature,  and  of  Society, 
by  John  Thelwall,  100  and  note. 

Perry,  James,  1 14. 

Perspiration.  A  Travelling  Eclogue, 
73. 

Peterloo,  702  n. 

Philip  Van  Artevelde.  by  Sir  Henry 
Taylor,  774  and  note. 

Phillips,  Elizabeth  (C.'s  half  sister), 
54  n. 

Phillips,  Sir  Richard,  317  and  note, 
325,  ;!27. 

Phillips.  Thomas,  R.  A.,  699;  his 
two  portraits  of  C,  699  and  note, 
701 »,  740;  his  portrait  of  William 
Hart  Coleridge,  Bishop  of  Barba- 
does  and  the  Leeward  Islands, 
741)  and  note. 

Philological  Museum,  733  n. 

Philosophy,  648-050;  German.  681- 
08.'! ;  C.'s  lectures  on  tlie  History 
of,  09S  and  note.  See  Metaphysics 
and  Religion. 


802 


INDEX 


Pickerin<r.  W.,  570  n. 

Picture  The :  or  The  Lover^s  Besolu- 

tioii,  4U")  u.,  tJ'JOn. 
Phiney,  Mr.,  of  Bristol,  lG3n. ;  his 
estate   iii   the    West   Indies,   ;JOU, 
801. 
Pipes,  nieerschanni,  277. 
Pisa,  C.'s  stay  at,  -i'M  n.,  500  n. ;  his 

aceount  of,  5U0  n. 
Pitt,  Kt.  Hon.  William,  C.'s  report 
in  the  Morning  Post  of  his  speech 
on  tlie  continuance  of  the  war 
with  France,  '.\'2~i  and  note ;  pro- 
posed articles  on,  .")U5  ;  C.'s  detes- 
tation of,  5o5  and  note  ;  02'J  and 
note. 
Pixies'  Parlour,  The,  222. 

Planipin,  J.,  70  and  note. 

Plato,  his  gorgeous  nonsense,  211 ; 
his  theology,  40(5. 

Playing-cards,  German,  268. 

Pleiisure,  intoxicating  power  of,  370. 

Plinlininion,  C.'s  ascent  of,  81  n. 

Plot  DiscoiHTtd,  The,  150  and  note. 

Poems  by  Eohert  Lovell  and  Bobert 
Southey  of  Balliol  College,  Bath, 
107  n. 

Poems  and  fragments  of  poems  in- 
troduced by  C.  into  his  letters, 
28,  85,  30,  51,  52,  54,  5(),  78,  75, 
77,  88,  92,  94,  98,  100,  111-118, 
207.  212,  225,  355,  379-384,  388, 
389,  897,  404,  412,  48.5-487,  558, 
609,620,642,  646,  702,  770,  771. 

Poems  on  the  Death  of  Priscillu  Far- 
mer, by  Charles  Lloyd,  200  and 
note. 

Poetical  Character,  Ode  on  the,  by 
Collins,  190. 

Poetry,  Concerning,  a  proposed  book, 
847,  880,  887. 

Poetry,  C.  proposes  to  write  an  essay 
on,  838,  347,  880,  387  ;  Greek  and 
Hebrew,  405,  400. 

Poetry,  C.'s,  not  obscure  or  mystical, 
194,  19.5. 

Poland,  829. 

Political  parties  in  England,  242. 

Politics,  240-248,  540,  550,  558,  574, 
702,712,  718,  757.  See  Democ- 
racy, Pantisocracy,  Republican- 
ism. 

Poole,  Richard.  249. 

Poole,  Mrs.  Puchard,  248. 

Poole,  Thomas,  contributes  to  TJie 
Watchman,  155  ;  collects  a  testimo- 


nial in  the  form  of  an  annuity  of 
£85  or  £40  for  C,  1.58  n.;  C.'s 
gratitude,  158,  159;  C.  proposes 
to  visit,  159;  C.'s  all'ection  for, 
108,  210,  258,  0(19,  010,  758;  C. 
proposes  to  visit  liiiu  with  Charles 
Lloyd,  170;  C.'s  happiness  at  the 
prospect  of  living  near,  178 ;  his 
connection  with  C.'s  removal  to 
Nether  Stowev,  18.8-198,  208-210  ; 
218,  219,  220;  his  opinion  of 
Wordsworth,  221  ;  282  and  note, 
288,  2.89,  257,  258,  2(iO,  282  n., 
289;  effects  a  reconciliation  be- 
tween C.  and  Southey,  8! )0;  8(J8, 
819;  C.'s  reasons  for  not  naming 
his  third  son  after,  844  ;  death  of 
his  mother,  804 ;  890,  487  n. ; 
nobly  employed.  458;  his  recti- 
tude and  simplicity  of  heart,  4.54  ; 
450  n.j  his  forge tfulness,  400; 
515,  528 ;  extract  from  a  letter 
from  C,  588  n.;  a  visit  to  Gras- 
mere  proijosed,  545  ;  his  narrative 
of  John  Walford,  558  and  note; 
C.  complains  of  unkindnrss  from, 
609,  010;  089  n.,  057;  meets  C. 
at  Samnel  Purkis's,  Brentford, 
078  ;  extract  from  a  letter  from 
C.  about  Samuel  Purkis,  ()78n. ; 
autobiographical  letters  from  C, 
3-18;  other  lettei-s  from  C,  1.86, 
15.5,  1.58,  108,  172,  17(i,  183-187, 
208,  248,  249,  258,  2(57,  282,  805, 
385,  843,  348,  3.50,  864,  452,  454, 
541,  544,  550,  5.50,  6)9,  (578,  753. 

Poole,  Thomas,  and  his  Friends,  by 
Mre.  Henry  tSandford,  158  n.,165  n., 
170  n.,  188  n.,  282  n.,  234  n.,  258, 
267  n.,  282  n.,  891  n.,  385  n.,  456  n., 
.588  n.,  5.58  n.,  (i78n.,  676n. 

Poole,  William,  ]7<'). 

Pope,  the.  Cleaves  Rome  at  a  warn- 
ing from,  498  n. 

Pope,  Alexander,  his  Essay  on  Man, 
048  ;  a  favorite  walk  of,  071. 

Pople,  Mr.,  publisher  of  C.'s  tragedy, 
Bemorse,  002. 

Porson,  Mr.,  114,  115. 

Portinscale,  898  and  note. 

Portraits  of  C,  crayon  sketch  by 
Dawe,  572  and  note  ;  full-length 
portrait  by  Allston  begun  at 
Rome,  572  and  note ;  portrait  by 
Allston  taken  at  Bristol,  572  n.  ; 
pencil  sketch  by  Leslie,  695  n. ; 


INDEX 


803 


two  portraits  by  Thomas  Phillips, 
699  and  note,  700,  74U  ;  Wyville's 
proofs,  770. 

Portugal,  C.  on  Southey's  proposed 
history   of,   387,    388,    423;    the 
coastof,  469-471,  473. 
'^    Possessive   case,  Moore's  misuse  of 
the,  ()72. 

Post,  Morning,  310;  C.  writing  for, 
320  and  noto,  324,  326,  3:^7  and 
note,  329  and  note  ;  331,  335  n., 
337,  376,  378  n.,  379  n.,  398,  404 
n.,  405,  414,  423,  455  n. ;  Napo- 
leon's animosity  aroused  by  C's 
articles  in,  498  n.  ;  its  notice  of 
C's  tragedy,  Remorse,  603  n. 

Postage,  rates  too  high,  345. 

Posthumous  Fame,  29  n. 

Potter,  Mr.,  97  and  note,  106. 

Poverty,  in  England,  353, 354  ;  bless- 
ings of,  364. 

Pratt,  321. 

Prelude,  The,  by  Wordsworth,  a 
reference  to  C  in,  48(5  n. ;  C's 
lines  To  William  Word&ivorth 
after  hearing  him  recite.  (i41,  644, 
646,  647  and  note  ;  C's  admira- 
tion of,  645,  647  n. 

Pride,  149. 

Priestley,  Joseph,  C's  sonnet  to,  116 
and  note  ;  his  doctrine  as  to  the 
future  existence  of  infants,  286. 

Progress  of  Libert  ij.  The.  29(>. 

Prometheus  of  ^-Eschylus,  Essay  on 
the,  740  and  note. 

Property,  to  be  modified  by  the  pre- 
dominance of  intellect,  323. 

Pseudonym,  "Eo-ttjo-*,  398  ;  its  mean- 
ing, 407  and  note,  408. 

Public  Characters  for  1790-1800, 
published  by  Richard  Phillips, 
317  n 

Puff  and  Slander,  projected  satires, 
630  and  notes,  ()31  n. 

Purkis,  Samuel,  326,  673  n. 

Quack  medicine,  a  German,  264. 

Quaker  Fa  mill/.  Records  of  a,  by 
Anne  Ogdcn  Boyce,  538  n. 

Quaker  girl,  inelegant  remark  of  a 
little,  362,  3()S. 

Quakerism,  415  ;  C's  belief  in  the 
essentials  of,  539-541  ;  C's  defi- 
nition of,  55(5. 

Quakers,  as  subscribers  to  The 
Friend,  556,  557. 


Quakers  and  Unitarians,  the  only 
(christians,  41.5. 

Quantocks,  the,  405  n. 

Quarterly  Review,  The,  606  ;  its  re- 
view of  The  Letters  of  Lord  Nel- 
son to  Lady  Hamilton,  637  and 
note,  667 ;  reechoes  C's  praise  of 
Gary's  Dante,  677  n.  ;  its  attitude 
towards  G.,  (597,  723  ;  John  Taylor 
Goleridge  editor  of,  736  and  notes, 
737. 

Rabbinical  Tales,  667  and  note,  669. 

Racedown,  G.'s  visit  to  Wordsworth 
at,  163  n.,  220  and  note,  221. 

Race  of  Banquo,  The,  by  iSouthey, 
92  and  note. 

Rae,  Mr.,  an  actor,  611,  667. 

Rainbow  The,  by  tjouthey,  108  and 
note. 

Ramsgate,  700,  722,  729-731,  742- 
744. 

Ratzeburg,  257 ;  C's  stay  in,  262- 
278  ;  the  Amtmann  of,  264,  268, 
271  ;  description  of,  273-277 ;  C 
leaves,  27S ;  292-294. 

"  Raw  Head  "  and  "  Bloody  Bones," 
45. 

Reading,  see  Books. 

Reading,  Berkshire,  66,  67. 

Reason  and  understanding,  the  dis- 
tinction between,  712,  713. 

Recluse,  The.  a  projected  poem  by 
Wordsworth  of  which  The  Excur- 
sion (q.  v.)  was  to  form  the  second 
part  and  to  M-hich  The  Prelude 
(q.  V.)  was  to  be  an  introduction, 
C.'s  hopes  for,  646,  (547  and  note, 
648-650. 

Recollections  of  a  Late  Royal  Acade- 
mician, by  Charles  Lamb.  572  n. 

Records  <f  a  Quaker  Family,  by 
Anne  Ogden  Boyce,  538  u. 

RedclifT.  114. 

RedclilF  Hill,  154. 

Rejlection,  Aids  to,  G?S  n. 

Reflections  on  having  left  a  Place  of 
Retirement.  (>ll(5  n. 

R.'fonn  r.ill.  760.  7(52. 

Reich.  Dr.,  7:'.4.  73(5. 

Rejected  Atldrmses.  by  Horace  and 
James  .^mith,  (50(5. 

Religion,  beliefs  and  doubts  of  C. 
in  regard  to,  (54,  (58,  (51 1,  88,  105, 
10(5,  127,  135,  152,  15.3,  1.5<t-161, 
167,  171,  172,  198-205,  210,  211, 


804 


INDEX 


228,  220,  2.35  n.,  242,  247,  248, 
285,  28(5,  342,  3(54,  3l55,  407,  414, 
415,  444,  538-541,  (517-()2(),  (524, 
67(5,  088,  61)4,  70(5-712,  740-748, 
750,  754,  758-760,  762,  703,  771, 
775,  770. 

Religious  Musings,  230. 

lieminis  -erices  of  Cambridge,  by 
Henry  Gunning,  24  n.,  3(53  n. 

Reminiscences  of  Coleridge  and 
Southey,  by  Cottle,  208  n.,  260  u., 
417,  450  n.,  (517  n. 

Remorse,  C.'s  dHfinition  of,  607. 

Remorse,  A  Tragedy  {Oiorio  re- 
written), rehearsal  of,  (500  ;  has  a 
brief  spell  of  success,  OJO  n.,  (iOi, 
604,  010,  Oil  ;  business  arrange- 
ments as  to  its  publication,  602  ; 
press  notices  of,  (503  and  note,  (504  ; 
William  Gilford's  criticism  of.  605  ; 
the  underlying  principle  of  the 
plot  of,  (5J7,  OOS ;  wretchedly 
acted,  OH,  Oil  ;  metres  of,  (5l)8  ; 
lack  of  pathos  in,  OJS  ;  plagiarisms 
in,  6  J8  ;  labors  occasioned  to  C. 
by  its  production  and  success,  610; 
finiiicial  success  of,  (ill  ;  Quar- 
terli/  Review''s  criticism  of,  030 ; 
001  i. 

Repjiitance  preached  by  the  Chris- 
tian religion,  201. 

Reporting  the  debates  for  the  Morn- 
iu'i  Post,  324,  320,  327. 

Repiblieanism.  72,  70-81,  243.  See 
Demoeracv,  Pantisocraey. 

Retronpec'.  The,  by  Robert  Southey, 
107  and  note. 

Revelation,  676. 

Reynull,  Richard,  407  and  note. 

Rheumatism,  C.'s  sufferings  from, 
174  n.,  103,  209,  307,  308,  432, 
433. 

Rhine,  the,  751. 

Richards,  George,  41  and  note. 

Richardson,  Mi-s.,  145. 

Richter,  Jean  Paul,  his  Vorschuleder 
Aisthc.lik,  (583  and  note. 

Kickman,  John,  456  n.,  459,  462, 
542,  500. 

Ridge  way  and  Symonds,  publishers, 
03  S  n. 

Robbers,  The,  by  Schiller,  96  and 
note.  07.  221. 

Roberts,  Margaret,  358  n. 

Robespierre,  M.ixiniilian  Marie  Isi- 
dore, 203  n.,  320  n. 


Robespierre,  The  Fall  of,  85  and  note, 

87,  03,  104  and  notes. 
Robinson,    Frederick    John    (after- 

Avards   Earl   of   liipoii),   his  Corn 

Bill,  043  and  note. 
Robinson,    llciu'y    Crabb,    225    n., 

503,  .500,  C.TO  n.  ;   in  old  age,  (571 

n. ;  reads  William  LJlake's  poems 

to  Wordsworth,    (i8(i   n.  ;  extract 

from  a  letter  from  C.  to,  680  n. ; 

his   Diary,  225  n.,  575  n.,  501  n., 

505  n.,  686  n.,  680  n.  ;  letter  from 

C,  671. 
Robinson,  Mrs.   Mary   ("  Perdita  "), 

contributes  poems  to  the  ^innual 

Anthology,    322    and    note;    her 

Haunted  Beach,  331,  332  ;  her  ear 

for  metre,  332. 
Roman  Catholicism  in  Germany,  291, 

292. 
Romance,    Ode  to,  by  Southey,  107 

and  note. 
Rome,  C.'s  flight  from,  498  n. ;  501, 

502. 
Rosamund,   Miss,   by  Southey,    108 

and  note. 
Rosamund  to   Henry;  written   after 

she  had  taken  the  veil,  by  Southey, 

108  n. 
Roscoe,  William,  .350  and  note. 
Rose,  Sir  George,  4")(>  and  note. 
Rose,  The,  .54  and  note. 
Rose.  W.,  542. 
Roskilly,    Rev.    Mr.,   267  n.,   270; 

letter  from  C,  267. 
Ross.  77. 

Ross,  the  Man  of,  77,  651  n. 
Rossetti,    Gabriele,    731    and    note, 

-TOO    7'>.> 

Rough,  Sergeant,  225  and  note. 

Royal  Institution,  C.  obtains  a  lec- 
tureship at  the,  500  n.,  507,  .508, 
511;  an  outline  of  proposed  lec- 
tures at  the.  515.  51(5,  522;  C.'s 
lectures  at^he,  525. 

Royal  Society  of  Liter.ature,  the, 
Basil  Montagu's  endeavors  to  se- 
cure for  C.  an  associateship  of, 
720,  727  ;  C.  an  as.sociate  of,  728  ; 
731 ;  an  essay  for,  737.  738 ;  C. 
reads  an  /-'ssay  on  the  Prometheus 
of  ^srhylus  heiore,  730,  740. 

Rulers,  always  as  bad  as  they  dare 
to  be,  240." 

Rush.  Sir  William,  308. 

Rushiford,*358. 


INDEX 


805 


Russell,  Mr.,  of  Exeter,  C.'s  fellow- 
traveller,  41(1S  n.,  500  and  note. 
R-jstats,  24,  4o. 
Ru'h,  by  Wordsworth,  387. 
Rutliin,  78. 

St.  Albyn,  Mrs.,  the  owner  of  Al- 
foxden,  232  n. 

St.  Augustine,  375. 

St.  Bees,  3!)2,  393. 

St.  Ulasius,  292. 

St.  Clear,  411,  412. 

St.  Lawrence,  near  Maldon,  descrip- 
tion of,  (59(M)92. 

St-  Leon,  by  Godwin,  the  copyright 
sold  for  £400,  324,  325. 

St.  Nevis,  .300,  3()1. 

St.  Paul's  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews, 
200. 

Salernitanus,  .560  and  note. 

Salisbury,  53-55. 

Samuel,  C.'s  dislike  of  the  name, 
470,  471. 

Sandford,  Mrs.  Henry,  183  n.,  her 
Thomas  Poole  and  his  Friends, 
158  n.,  1G5  n.,  170  n.,  183  n., 
232  n.,  234  n.,  258,  207  n.,  282  n., 
319  n.,  335  n.,  456  n.,  533  n.,  553  n., 
673  n.,  67t')  n. 

Saturday  Club,  the,  at  Gottingen, 
281. 

Satyrane\<i  Letters,  257,  274  n.,  558. 

Savage,  Mr.,  534. 

Savorv,  Mr.,  31(). 

Scafeil,  393,  394  ;  in  a  thunder- 
storm on,  400  and  note  ;  view  from 
the  summit  of,  4()0,  401  ;  suggests 
the  Hi/iiin  before  Stmrise  in  the 
Vale  of  Chamouni,  404  and  note, 
405  and  note. 

Scale  Force,  375. 

Scarborough,  361-.36.3. 

Schelling,  Friedrich  Wilhelm  Jo- 
seph von,  the  philosophy  of,  683, 

Schiller,  his  Eobbtrs,  96  and  note, 
97,  221  ;  C.  translates  manuscript 
plays  of,  3:!1  ;  C.'s  translation  of 
his  Wallenstein.  403,  60S. 

Scholarship  examinations,  24,  43, 
45  and  note,  46. 

Schoning,  Mari.a  Eleanora,  the  story 
of,  555  and  note,  556. 

Scoope,  Emanuel,  second  Viscount 
Howe,  2()2  n. 

Scotland,  C.'s  tour  in,  431—141 ;  the 


four  most  wonderful  sights  in, 
439,  440. 

Scott,  an  attorney,  his  manner  of 
revenging  himself  on  C,  310,  311. 

Scott,  !;ir  ^Valter,  his  Life  of  Napo- 
leon Bonaparte,  174  n. ;  his  house 
in  Edinburgh,  439 ;  takes  Hartley 
C.  to  the  Tower,  511 'n. ;  his  offer 
to  use  his  influence  to  get  a  place 
for  Southey  on  the  staff  of  the 
Edinburgh  Bevieiv,  522  and  note, 
522  ;  his  Lai/  of  the  Last  Minstrel, 
523";  60.5",  (i94 ;  his  Antiquary, 
736  and  note. 

Sea-bathing,  3()1  n.,  362  and  note. 

Seasickness,  no  sympathy  for,  743, 
744. 

Sermoni  propriora,  606  and  note. 

Shad,  82,  89,  96. 

Shaftesbury,  Lord,  689  n. 

Shakespeare,  Lectures  on,  557  n. 

Shakespeare  and  other  Di-ainatists, 
Lectures  on,  756  n. 

Sharp,  Richard,  447  n. ;  letter  from 
C,  447. 

Shepherds,  German,  293. 

Sheridan,  E.  B.,  Esq.,  To,  116  n., 
118. 

Shrewsbury,  C.  offered  the  Unitarian 
pastorate  at,  235  and  note,  236. 

Sibylline  Leaves,  178  n.,  378  n., 
379  n.,  404  n.  ;  C.  ill-used  by  the 
printer  of,  673,  674  ;  ()78,  770. 

Sicily,  C.  plans  to  visit,  457,  4-58; 
C.'s  first  tour  in,  485  and  note, 
486  and  note,  487 ;  523. 

Siddons,  Mrs.,  50. 

Sieves.  Abb^,  329  and  note. 

Siglu  The,  KK)  and  note. 

Simpliciti/,  Sonnet  to.  251  and  note. 

Sin.  original.  C.  a  bi'liever  in.  242. 

Sincerity,  regarded  by  Dr.  Darwin 
as  vicious,  161. 

Sixteen  Sonnets,  by  Bampfylde, 
369  n. 

Skiddaw,  335,  336 ;  sunset  over, 
.384. 

Skiddaw  Forest,  376  n. 

Slavery,  quostion  of  its  introduction 
into  the  pr()j)f>sed  p:intisocratio 
colony,  S9,  9i».  95.  96. 

Slave  Tradf,  lli.itnrji  of  the  Abolition 
of  the,  by  Thomas  Clarkson,  C.'s 
review  of,  527  and  note,  528-630, 
535.  5;i6. 

Slave  Trade,  On  the,  43  and  note. 


80G 


INDEX 


Slee,  Miss,  002,  3G:l 

Sleep,  C.'s  sufferiiiga  in,  435,  440, 
441,  447. 

Smerdon.  Mrs..  21,  22. 

Snienlon,  l\ev.  Mr.,  Vicar  of  Ottery, 
22,  KKi  and  note. 

Smitli.  Charlotte,  ;]2(i. 

Smith,  Horace  and  James,  their  Re- 
jicted  Addresses,  UUG. 

Smitli,  James,  7U4. 

Smith,  Raphael,  7Ul  n. 

Smith,  Robert  Percy  (Bobus),  43 
and  note. 

Smith,  AVilliam,  M.  P.,  50G  n.,  507 
and  note. 

Snufi',  GUI,  G92  and  note. 

Social  Life  at  the  English  Universi- 
ties, by  Christopher  Wordsworth, 
225  n. 

Something  Childish,  but  Very  Natu- 
ral, quoted,  2U4. 

Song.  100. 

Songs  (if  the  Pixies,  222. 

Sonnet,  an  anonymous,  177,  178. 

Sonnet  composed  on  a  journey  home- 
icard,  the  author  having  received 
intelligence  of  the  birth  of  a  son, 
l'.t4  and  note,  195. 

Sonnets,  111,  112,  and  note  ;  to 
Priestley,  IIG  and  note;  to  Kos- 
ciusko, 110  n.,  117;  to  Godwin, 
IIG  n.,  117;  to  Sheridan,  IIG  n., 
117,  118;  to  Burke,  110  n.,  118; 
to  Sonthey,  IKi  n.,  120;  a  selection 
of,  privately  printed  by  C,  177, 200 
and  note  ;  by  "  Nehemiah  Higgin- 
bottom,"  251  n. 

Sonnets,  Sixteen,  by  Bampfylde, 
309  n. 

Sonnet  to  Simplicity,  251  and  note. 

Sonnet  to  the  Author  of  the  liobbers, 
90  n. 

Sorrel,  James.  21. 

Sotheby,  William,  C.  translates  Ges- 
ner's  JUrste  Schiffer  at  his  instance, 
309,  371,  372,  370-37S,  397.  402, 
403  ;  his  translation  of  the  Geor- 
gics  of  Virgil,  375  ;  his  Poems,  .375  ; 
his  Netleif  Abbey.  390;  his  Welsh 
Tour,  390;  \ns' Orestes,  402,  409, 
410;  proposes  a  fine  edition  of 
Christubel,  421,  422  ;  492,  579, 
595  n..  004,  005;  letters  from  C, 
.3()9,  37(i,  39(i-40S. 

Sotheby,  Mrs.  William,  3G9,  375, 
378. 


Soul  and  body,  708,  709. 

South  Devon,  305  n. 

Southuy,  Lieutenant,  5(53. 

Sonthey,  Bertha,  daughter  of  Robert 
S.,  born,  540,  .547  and  note,  578. 

Sonthey,  Catharine,  daughter  of 
Robert  S.,  57f^. 

Sonthey,  Rev.  Charles  Cuthbert,  his 
Life  and  Correspondence  of  liobert 
Southey,  308  n.,  309  n.,  327  n., 
329  n.,  384  n.,  395  n.,  400  n.,  425  n., 
488  n.,  .521  n.,  .584  n.,  748  n. ;  on 
the  date  of  composition  of  The 
Loctor,  583  n. 

Sonthev,  Edith,  daughter  of  Robert 
S.,  578. 

Southey,  Dr.  Henry,  015  and  note. 

Southey,  Herbert,  sou  of  Robert  S., 
578  ;   his  nicknames,  58;;  n. 

Southey,  Margaret,  daugliter  of  Rob- 
ert S.,  born,  394  n.,  395  n.  ;  dies, 
435  n. 

Southey,  Mrs.  Margaret,  mother  of 
Roberts.,  138,  147. 

Southey,  Robert,  his  and  C.'s  Omni- 
ana,  9  n.,  .554  n.,  718  n. ;  his  Botany 
Bay  Eclogues,  70  n.,  IKi;  proposed 
emigration  to  America  with  a  colo- 
ny of  pantisoerats,  81,  82,  8()-i)l, 
9.5,  90,  98,  101-103;  his  sonnets, 
82, 83,  92,  108  ;  his  connection  with 
C.'s  engagement  to  Miss  Sarah 
Fricker,  84-80,  12G;  his  Pace  of 
Banquo,  92  and  note;  97 n.  ;  hia 
Retrospect,  107  and  note  ;  his  Ode 
to  liomance,  107  and  note  ;  his  Ode 
to  Lycon,  107  n.,  108;  his  Death  of 
Mattathias,  lOS  and  note;  his  son- 
nets, To  Valentine,  The  Fire,  The 
Rainbow,  108  and  notes  ;  his  Rosa- 
mund to  Henry,  108  and  notes;  his 
Pauperis  Funeral,  108  and  note, 
109;  his  Chapel  Bell,  110  and 
note ;  C.  prophesies  fame  for, 
110;  his  Elegy.  115;  C.'s  sonnet 
to,  llOn.,  120;  lines  to  Godwin, 
120;  suggestion  that  the  jiroposcd 
colony  of  pantisoerats  be  founded 
in  Wales,  121,  122;  his  sonnet, 
Hold  your  mod  hands.',  127  and 
note  ;  his  abandonment  of  panti- 
socracy  causes  a  serious  rupture 
with  (L,  134-151  ;  marries  Edith 
Fricker,  137  n. ;  his  Joan  of  Arc, 
141,  149,  178  .and  note,  210,  319; 
103  n. ;    the   poet  for  the  patriot. 


INDEX 


807 


178 ;  198  and  note  ;  his  verses  to  a 
coUeg'e  eat,  201 ;  C.  compares  his 
poetry  with  his  own,  210;  per- 
sonal relations  with  C.  after  the 
partial  reconciliation,  210,  211  ;  his 
exertions  in  aid  of  Chatterton's 
sister.  221,  222;  his  Marij  the 
Maid  of  the  Inn,  22;J  ;  C.'s  Sonnet 
to  SiiujAicity  not  written  with  ref- 
erence to,  2')  1  and  note  ;  a  more 
complete  reconciliation  with  C, 
308,  o(  )4  ;  visits  C.  at  btowey  with 
his  wife,  304 ;  C,  with  his  wife 
and  child,  visits  hira  at  Exeter, 
305  and  note ;  accompanies  C.  on 
a  walking  tonr  in  Dartmoor,  '.'A)'t 
and  note ;  his  Specimens  of  the 
Later  English  Poets,  30!)  n.;  his 
Madoc,  314,  357,  388,  4li3  and 
note,  467,  489,  490;  his  Thulaba 
the  Destroi/er,  314.  319,  324,  357, 
684;  out  of  health,  314;  C.  sug- 
gests his  removing  to  London, 
315 ;    George    Dyer's   article    on, 

317  and  note  ;  The  Devil  s  Thoughts, 
written  in  collaboration    with  C, 

318  ;  320  n. ;  thinks  of  going  abroad 
for  his  health,  32'),  329,  3iiO,  3(51 ; 
an  advocate  of  the  establishment 
of  Protestant  orders  of  .Sisters  of 
Mercy,  327  n. ;  proposes  the  estab- 
lishment of  a  magazine  with 
signed  articles,  32S  n. ;  extract 
from  a  letter  to  C.  on  the  condi- 
tion of  France,  329  n.;  C.  begs 
him  to  make  liis  home  at  Greta 
Hall,  354-35(5,3(12,391,  392,394, 
395 ;  367,  379  n. ;  his  proposed 
history  of  Portugal,  3>i7.  388,  423 ; 
secretary  to  the  C'liaiK-ellor  of  the 
Exchequer  for  Ireland  for  a  sliort 
time,  390  and  note  ;  birth  of  his 
first  child.  Margaret,  304  n.,  305  n  ; 
his  admiration  of  Bowh^s  and  its 
effect  on  l)is  poems,  3'.li'i  ;  400  n. ; 
his  prose  style,  42.1;  his  proposed 
bibliographical  work,  42.'<-43(); 
makes  a  visit  to  Grehi  Hall  which 
proves  perniaupnt.  4.35  ;  death  of 
his  little  daughter,  Margaret,  435 
and  note.  437  ;  his  lii'st  imprt^s- 
sions  of  Edinburgh,  43.*^  n. ;  442  ; 
on  Hartley  and  Derwent  Cole- 
ridge, 443;  460,  463,  4()8,  4St, 
488  n.;  poverty,  490;  his  Wat 
Tyler,   507  n. ;  declines    an    offer 


from  Scott  to  secure  him  a  place 
on  the  staff  of  the  Edinburgh 
lieview,  521  and  note;  542 n.; 
extract  from  a  letter  to  J.  N. 
White,  545  n. ;  on  the  nmnips, 
545  n.  ;  54(5 ;  birth  of  his  daugh- 
ter Bertha,  54(>,  547  and  note; 
548 ;  corrects  proofs  of  The 
Friend,  551  and  note  ;  575 ;  C.'s 
love  and  esteem  for,  578 ;  his 
family  in  1812,  578;  C.'s  estimate 
of,  581  ;  on  the  authorship  of  The 
Doctor,  r>X-]  n.,  584  n. ;  585  ;  C. 
states  his  side  of  the  quarrel  with 
Wordswortii  in  conversation  witli, 
592;  (5(J4,  600  n..  615,  617  n.; 
Avrites  of  his  friend  John  Kenyon, 
639  n. ;  his  protection  of  C.'s  fam- 
ily, 657 ;  C.'s  letter  introducing 
Mr.  Ludwig  Tieck,  (570 ;  his  Curse 
of  Kehama,  (584;  694,  718,  724; 
his  Book  of  the  Church,  724;  726; 
his  acquaintance  with  George 
Dyer,  748  n.  ;  letters  from  C,  72- 
101,  10(5-121,  125,  1.34,  137,  221, 
251  n.,  303,  307-332,  354-361, 
365,  384,  393,  415,  422-430,  434, 
437,  464,  469,  487,  520,  5.54,  597, 
605,  67();  letter  to  Miss  Sarah 
Fricker,  107  n.  See  Annual  ^In- 
tholoyy,  the.  edited  by  Southey. 

Southey,  Robert,  Life  and  Corre- 
spondence of,  by  Rev.  Charles 
Cuthbert  Southey,  108  n.,  308  n., 
309  n.,  327  n.,  320  n.,  384  n.,  395  n., 
400  n.,  425  n.,  488  n.,  521  n.,  584  n., 
736  n.,  748  n. 

Southey,  Robert,  Selections  from  Let- 
ters of,  305  n.,  438  n.,  447  n., 
543  n.,  545  n.,  58.3  n.,  -584  n..  73(5  n. 

Southey,  Robert,  of  Bailiol  College, 
Bath,  Poems  by  Robert  Lovell  and, 
107  n. 

Southey,  Mrs.  Robert  (Edith  Frick- 
er), Southev's  sonnet  to,  127  and 
note  ;  .384.  ."is:,,  :;00-;','.12  ;  birth  of 
lier  fii-st  child.  Margaret.  .'.94  n., 
30.5  n.  ;  4.'^  ;  birth  of  her  daugh- 
ter Bertlia,  546,  547  and  note ; 
592. 

Southey,  Thomas.  108  n.,  109  n., 
147  ;  a  midsliipman  on  the  .Sylph 
at  the  time  of  her  capture,  308 
.and  note. 

Sontii  Mdlton,  .5. 

Spade  of  a  Friend  (an  Agriculturist), 


808 


INDEX 


To  the,  by  Wordsworth,  in  honor  of 
Thomas  Wilkinson.  5;58  n. 

Spaniards,  ('."s  opinion  of,  47S. 

Spaniards,  Letttrs  on  the,  ()21)  and 
note. 

Sparrow,  Mr.,  head-master  of  New- 
come's  Academy,  24,  2")  n. 

Specimens  of  the  Later  English  Poets, 
by  Southey,  oUS)  n. 

Spectator,  Addison's,  studied  by  C. 
in  connection  with  The  Friend, 
557,  558. 

Speedwell,  the  brig,  4(17  ;  on  board, 
4(5!)-48l. 

Spenser,  Edmund,  his  View  of  the 
State  of  Inland,  {'y'-iS  and  note; 
quotation  from,  (iy4. 

Spillekins.  402,  4ti8. 

Spinoza,  Benedict,  G;>2. 

Spirit  of  ]Vavi<jation  and  Discoveri/, 
The,  by  AVilliam  Lisle  Bowles, 
40;}  and  note. 

Spiritual  Philosophi/,  founded  on  the 
Teaching  of  S.  T.  Coleridge,  by  J. 
H.  Greeii,  with  memoir  of  the  au- 
thor's life,  by  Sir  John  Simon, 
680  n. 

Spurzhfcim,  Johann  Kaspar,  his  life- 
mask  and  bust  of  C,  570  n. 

Stage,  illusion  of  the,  003. 

Stanford  News,  507  n. 

Stanger,  Mi's.  Joshua  (Mary  Cal- 
vert), .'345  n. 

Stanzas  written  in  my  Pocket  Copy  of 
Thoinson\s  Castle  of  Indolence,  by 
Wordsworth,  .'545  n. 

Steam  vessels,  7oO  and  note,  743. 

Steffens,  Heinrich,  0S3. 

Steinburg,  Baron,  270. 

Steinmetz,  Adam,  C.'s  letter  to  his 
friend,  John  Peirse  Kennard,  af- 
ter his  death,  702 ;  his  character 
and  amiable  qualities,  703,  704, 
775. 

Steinmetz,  John  Henry,  702  n. 

Stephen,  Leslie,  on  C.'s  study  of 
Kant,  351  n. 

Stephens  (Stevens),  Launeelot  Pe- 
pys,  25  and  note. 

Sterling,  Life  of,  by  Carlyle,  771  n., 
772  n. 

Sterling.  John,  his  admiration  for 
C,  771  n.,  772  n.;  letter  from  C, 
771. 

SternhaUVs  Wanderungen,  by  Lud- 
wig  Tieck,  683  and  note. 


Stevens  (Stephens),  Launeelot  Pe- 
pys,  25  and  note. 

Stoddart,  Dr.  (afterwards  Sir)  John, 
477  and  note,  481,  .508;  detains 
C.'s  books  and  MSS.,  52.3  ;  524. 

Stoke  House,  C.  visits  the  Wedg- 
woods at,  073  n. 

Storm,  on  a  mountain-top,  339,  .340  ; 
with  lightning  in  December,  305, 
300  ;  on  Scafell,  401)  and  note  ;  in 
Kirkstone  Pass,  418-420. 

Stowey,  .see  Nether  Stowey. 

Stowey  Benefit  Club,  233. 

Stowey  Castle,  225  n. 

Street,  Mr.,  editor  of  the  Courier, 
500,  533,  507,  508,  570,  010,  029, 
634  ;  his  unsatisfactory  conduct  of 
the  Courier,  001,  602. 

Strutt,  Mr.,  152,  153. 

Strutt,  Edward  (Lord  Belper),  215  n. 

Strutt,  Joseph,  215  n.,  210,  367. 

Strutt,  Mrs.  Joseph,  210. 

Strutt,  William,  215  and  note. 

Stuart,  Miss,  a  personal  reminiscence 
of  C.  by,  705  n. 

Stuart,  Daniel,  proprietor  and  editor 
of  the  Morning  Post  and  Courier, 
311,  315;  engages  C.  for  the 
Morning  Post,  310,  320;  321, 
329 ;  engages  lodgings  in  Covent 
Garden  for  C,  3()0n.  ;  on  C  's  dis- 
like of  Sir  James  Mackintosh, 
454  n.,  455  n. ;  458,  408,  474, 
486  n.,  507,  508,  51'.).  520,  542, 
543  n. ;  a  friend  of  Dr.  Henry 
Sonthey,  615  n.;  his  steadiness 
and  independence  of  character, 
600;  his  pulilic  services,  (i6i> ;  his 
knowledge  of  men,  600;  letters 
from  C,  475,  485,  493,  501,  505, 
533,  545,  547,  566,  595,  615,  627, 
634,  6(i0,  663,  740.  See  Courier 
and  Post,  Morning. 

Stutfield,  Mr.,  amanuensis  and  dis- 
ciple of  C,  753  and  note. 

Sugar,  beet,  299  and  note. 

Su)i,  The,  633. 

Sunset  in  the  Lake  Country,  a, 
384. 

Supernatural,  C.'s  essay  on  the,  684. 

Superstitions  of  the  German  bauers, 
291,  2!)2,  294. 

Suwarrow,  Alexander  Vasilievitch, 
307  and  note. 

Swedenborg,  Emanuel,  his  De  Cultu 
et    Amore    Dei,    684  n. ;    his    De 


INDEX 


809 


Ccdo  et  Inferno,  684  n.  j  688,  729, 

730. 
Swedenborgianism,  C.  and,  684  n. 
Swift,  Jonathan,  his  Drapier  Letters, 

638  and  note. 
Sylph, the  gun-brig',  capture  of,.j08  n. 
Sympathy,   C.'s    craving    for,    (j^M, 

697. 
Synesius,  by  Canterus,  67  and  note, 

6S. 
Syracuse,  Sicily,  458 ;  C.'s  visit  to, 

48.J  n.,  4SG  n. 
Table    Talk,    81  n.,    440  n.,    624  n., 

683  n.,  684  n.,  699  n.,  756  n.,  703  n., 

764  n. 
Table  Talk  and  Omniana,  9  n.,  554  n., 

571  n.,  718  n.,  764  n. 
Tatum,  53,  54. 
Taunton,    220  n. ;  C.    preaches    for 

Dr.  ToxUmin  in,  247. 
Taxation,    C.'s  Essay   on,    629  and 

note. 
Taxes,  757. 
Taylor,  Sir  Henry,  his  Philip  Van 

Artevelde,  774  and  note. 
Taylor,  Jeremy,  his  Dissuasion  from 

Popery,  639 ;  his  Letter  on  Origi- 
nal  Sin,    640;  a  complete    man, 

640,  641. 
Taylor,  Samuel,  9. 
Taylor,    William,    310;  on    double 

rhymes    in    English,    332 ;     488, 

489. 
Tea,  412,  413,  417. 
Temperance,    suggestions  as  to  the 

furtherance  of  the  cause  of,  767- 

769. 
Temple,    The,    by  George    Herbert, 

694. 
TenerifFe,  414,  417. 
Terminology,  C.   wishes  to   form  a 

better,  755. 
Thalaba  the  Destroyer,  by  Southey, 

414;   C.'s  advice  as  to  publishing, 

319;  324,357,  684. 
The  Hour  when  we  shall  meet  again, 

157. 
Thelwall,  John,  his  radicalism.  1-59, 

160  ;  his  criticisms  of  C.'s  poi'trv, 

163,  1(!4,  194-197,218  ;  on  Burke, 

166 ;  his    Peripatetic,   or  Sketches 

of  the  Heart,  of  Nature,  ami  of 
Society,  l<i6  and  note  ;  his  Essay 

on  Animal  Vitality,  179,  212  ;  his 
Poems,  ll'.K  197;  his  contemptu- 
ous attitude  towards  the  Christian 


Religion,  198-205;  two  odes  by, 
218  ;  C.  criticises  a  poem  and  a  so- 
called  sonnet  by,  :i30 ;  C.  advises 
him  not  to  settle  at  Stowey,  232- 
234 ;  letter  to  Dr.  Crompton  on 
the  Wedgwood  annuity,  ^34  n. ; 
extract  from  a  letter  from  C.  on 
the  Wedgwood  annuity,  235  n. ; 
letters  from  C,  159,  166,  178, 193, 
210,  214,  228-232. 

Thelwall,  Mrs.  John  (Stella,  first 
wife  of  preceding),  181,  205,  206 
n.,  207,  214. 

Theology,  C.'s  great  interest  in, 
406 ;  C.'s  projected  great  work 
on,  632  and  note,  ()33. 

Theory  of  Life,  711  n. 

The  piteous  sobs  which  choke  the  vir- 
gin's breast,  a  sonnet  by  C,  206  n. 

This  Lime-Tree  Bower  my  Prison, 
225  and  note,  226  and  notes,  227, 
228  n. 

Thompson,  James,  343  and  note. 

Thornycroft,  Hanio,  K.  A.,  570  n.  ; 
his  bust  of  C.,  6115  n. 

Thou  gentle  look,  that  didst  my  soul 
beguile,  see  O  gentle  look,  etc. 

Though  king-bred  rage  with  lawless 
tumult  rude,  a  sonnet,  116  and 
note. 

Thought,  a  rule  for  the  regulation 
of,  244,  245. 

Three  Graves,  The,  412  and  note, 
551,  606. 

Thunder-storm,  in  December,  365, 
36(5 ;  on  Scafell,  400  and  note. 

Tieck,  Ludwig,  a  letter  of  intro- 
duction from  C.  to  Southey,  (>70; 
two  letters  to  C.  from,  (i70  n. ; 
671,  (i72,  680;  his  Strrnbald's 
Wanderungen.  66i5  and  note;  6'.t9. 

Times,  The,  327  n. ;  its  notice  of 
C.'s  tragedy  liemorse,  603  and 
note. 

Tineum,  by  C.  Valentine  Le  Grice, 
111  and  note. 

■Tiverton.  56. 

To  a  Friend,  together  tvith  an  Un- 
finished Poem.  12S  n.,  454  n. 

To  a  friend  who  had  declared  his  in- 
tention of  writing  no  more  poetry, 
206  n. 

To  a  Gentleman,  647  n.  See  To  Wil- 
liam  Wordsworth, 

To  a  Highland  Girl,  by  Words- 
worth, 4.59. 


810 


INDEX 


To  a    Young  Ass;  its  mother  being 

tethered  mar  it,  1 1'J  and  note,  120, 

00(5  ami  note. 
To  a  Yotng  Lady,  with  a  Poem  on 

the    French    Revolution,    94    and 

note. 
To  a  Young  Man  of  Fortune  who  had 

abandoned  himself  to  an   indolent 

and  causeless   melancholy,  207  and 

note,  20-*  and  note. 
Tobiu,  Mr.,  his  habit   of  advising, 

474,  47). 
Tobin,  James,  460  n. 
Tobin,  John,  4()0  n. 
To  lio'des,  1 1 1  and  note. 
To  Disappointment ,  28. 
Tomalin,  J.,  his  Shorthand  Report  of 

Lectures,  11  n.,  57")  n. 
To      Matilda     Betham.      From     a 

Stranger,  404  n. 
Tonikins,  Mr.,  ;^>!)7,  402,  403. 
To  my  own  Heart,  92  n. 
Tooke,    Andrew,  4.55  n. ;  his    Pan- 
theon, 4").")  and  note. 
Tooke,  Horna,  21S. 
To  one  icho  published  in  print  what 

had  been  intrusted  to  him  by  my 

fireside,  'l-Yl  n. 
Torbay,  ;50.")  n. 
To   R.   B.   Sheridan,  Esq.,    IIG  n., 

lis. 

To  thp  Spade  of  a  Friend  {an  Agri- 
culturist), b}'  Wordsworth,  in  honor 
of  Thomas  Wilkinson,  .538  n. 

Totness,  30). 

Touhnin,  Rev.  Dr.,  220  n.  ;  tragic 
death  of  his  daughter,  247,  248. 

Tour  in  North  Wales,  by  J.  Hacks, 
74  n.,  SI  n. 

Tour  over  the  Brocken,  257. 

Tour  through  Parts  of  Wales,  by 
William  riotheby,  390. 

To  Valentine,  by  Southey,  108  and 
note. 

Towers,  321. 

To  William  Wordsworth,  041,  044  ; 
C.  quotes  from,  04(5,  047  ;  047  n. 

Treaty  of  V^ienna,  015  and  note. 

Trossachs,  the,  431,  432,  440. 

Tuekett,  G.  L. ,  57  n. ;  letter  from 
C,  57. 

Talk,  Charles  Augustus,  684  n. ; 
letters  from  C,  084,  712. 

Turkey,  329. 

Turner,  Sh.aron,  425  n.,  .593. 

Two  Founts,  The,  702  n. 


Two  Round  Spaces  on  a   Tombstone, 

The,  the  hero  of.  455. 
Two  Sisters,  To,  702  n. 
Tychsen,  Olaus,  398  and  note. 
Tyson,  T.,  393. 

Ulpha  Kirk.  393. 

Understanding,      as      distinguished 

from  reason,  712,  713. 
Unitarianism,  415,  758,  759. 
Upeott,  C.  visits  Josiah  Wedgwood 

at,  308. 
Usk,  the  vale  of,  410. 

Valentine,  To,  by  Southey,  108  and 
note. 

Valetta,  Malta,  C.'s  visit  to,  481- 
484,  487-407. 

Valette,  General,  484  ;  given  com- 
mand of  the  Maltese  Regiment, 
5.54,  .555. 

Vane,  Sir  Frederick,  his  library, 
290. 

Velvet  Cushion,  The,  by  Rev.  J.  W. 
Ciinnini^ham,  051  and  note. 

Vienna,  Treaty  of,  015  and  note. 

Violin-teacher,  C.'s,  49. 

Virg-il's  ^Fneid,  Wordsworth's  un- 
finished translation  of,  733  and 
note,  734. 

Virgil's  Georgics,  William  Sotheby's 
translation,  .■>T5. 

Visions  of  the  Maid  of  Orleans,  The, 
192,  liOO. 

Vital  power,  definition  of.  712. 

Vogelstein,  Karl  Cliristian  Vogel 
von.  a  letter  of  introduction  from 
Ludwig  Tieck  to  C,  070  n. 

Von  Axen,  Messrs.  P.  and  O.,  209  n. 

Voss,  Johann  Heinrich,  his  Luise, 
20.5  n.,  ()25,  (i27  ;  his  Idi/lls,  398. 

Voyage  to  Malta,  C.'s,  409-481. 

Wade,  Josiah,  137  n.,  145,  151  n., 
152  n.,  191,  288;  publication  by 
Cottle  of  Coleridge's  letter  of 
June  20,  1814,  to,  010  n.,  017  n. ; 
letters  from  C  151,  023. 

Waithman,  a  politician,  598. 

Wakefield,  Edward,  his  Account  of 
Ireland,  038. 

Wales,  proposed  colony  of  pantiso- 
crats  in.  121.  122,  140,  141. 

Wales,  Tour  through  Parts  of,  by 
William  .Sotheby,  ;!90. 

Wales,  North,  C.'s  tour  of,  72-81. 


INDEX 


811 


Wales,  South,  C.'s  tour  of,  410-414. 

Walforcl,  John,  Poole's  narrative  of, 
55."]  and  note. 

Walker,  Tliomas,  162. 

Walk  into  the  country,  a,  32,  33. 

Wallenstein,  by  ISchiller,  C.'s  trans- 
lation of,  4U3,  608. 

Waliis,  Mr.,  498-500,  523. 

Wallis,  Mrs.,  3'J2. 

Wanderer^s  Farewell  to  Two  Sisters, 
The,  722  n. 

Ward,  C.  A.,  763  n. 

Ward,  Thonitis,  170  n. 

Wardle,  Colonel,  leads  the  attack 
on  the  Duke  of  York  in  the  House 
of  Conniions,  .")43  and  note. 

Warren,  Parson,  18. 

Wastdale,  303,  401. 

Watchman,  The,  57  n.  ;  C.'s  tour 
to  procure  subscribers  for,  151  and 
note,  152-154;  155-157;  discon- 
tinued, 158  ;  174  n.,  611. 

Watson,  Mrs.  Henry,  ()y8  n.,  702  n. 

Wat  Ti/Ur.  bv  Southey,  506  n. 

Wedgwood,  josiah,  260,  261,  268, 
26'.t  n.  ;  visit  from  C.  at  Upcott, 
808 ;  his  temporary  residence  at 
Upcott,  3U8  n. ;  337  n.,  ;)50, 351  and 
note,  41()  n. ;  withdraws  his  half 
of  the  Wedgwood  annuity  from 
C,  ()02,  (Jl  1  and  note  ;  C.'s  regard 
and  love  for.  Oil,  612. 

Wedgwood,  Josiah  and  Thomas, 
settle  on  C.  an  annuity  for  life  of 
£150,  2;>4  and  note,  235  and  note  ; 
26!)  n..  321. 

Wedgwood,  Miss  Sarah,  412,  416, 
417. 

Wedgwood.  Thomas.  323.  370  n.  ; 
witli  C.  in  South  Wales,  412,  413; 
y  his  fine  and  subtle  mind,  412 ; 
proposes  to  p:v.ss  the  winter  in 
Italy  with  C,  41.3,  414,  418;  415, 
4 Hi;  a  genuini"  philosopher,  448, 
440;  C.'s  gr.ititude  towards,  451  ; 
456  n..  4113  ;  C.'s  love  for.  mingled 
•with  fear,  (512  ;  letter  from  C, 
417. 

Welles,  A.,  462. 

Wellesley,  Marquis  of,  674. 

Welsh  clercvinau.  a,  70,  80. 

Wenslev,  Miss,  an  actress,  and  her 
father.  701. 

Wernigi'rode  Inn,  298  n. 

West.  INIr..  6:1.".. 

Whitbread,  Samuel,  598. 


Wliite,  Blanco,  741,744. 

White,  J.  N.,  extract  from  a  letter 
from  Southey,  545  n. 

White  Water  Dash,  375  and  note, 
376  n. 

Wilberforce,  William,  535. 

Wilkie,  Su"  David,  his  portraits  of 
Hartley  C,  511  n.  ;  his  Blind 
Fiddler,  5 11  n. 

Wilkinson,  Thomas,  538  n.  ;  letter 
from  C,  538. 

Will,  lunacy  or  idiocy  of  the,  768. 

Williams,  Edward  (lolo  Morgangw), 
162  and  note. 

Williams,  John  ("Antony  Pasquin  "), 
603  n. 

Wilson,  Mrs.,  housekeeper  for  Mr. 
Jackson  of  Greta  Hall,  4()1  and 
note,  491 ;  Hartley  C.'s  attachment 
for,  510. 

Wilson,  Professor,  756. 

Windy  Brow,  34(). 

Wish  written  in  Jesus  Wood,  Feb- 
ruary 10,  1792,  A,  35. 

With  passive  joy  the  moment  I  survey, 
an  anonymous  sonnet,  177,  178. 

With  wayworn  feet,  a  pilgrim  woe- 
begone, a  sonnet  by  Southey,  127 
and  note. 

Wolf,  Freiherr  Johann  Christian  von, 
735. 

Wollstonecraft,  Mary,  316,  318  n., 
321. 

Woodlands,  271. 

Woolman,  John,  540. 

Woolinan,  John,  the  Journal  q/",  4and 
note. 

Worcester.  1.54. 

Wordswortli.  Catherine.  563. 

Wordsworth.  Khv.  Christopiier,  D.D., 
225  n. ;  Charles  Lloyd  reads  Greek 
with.  311. 

Wordsworth,  Rev.  Christopher,  M. 
A.,  his  Social  Life  at  the  English 
Ihiirersities  in  the  Eighteenth  Cen- 
tury. 225  n. 

Wordsworth.  Rt.  Rev.  Christopher, 
I).  1)..  his  Mrmoirs  of  William 
Wordsworth.  4:'.2  n.,  585  n. 

Wordsworth.  Dorothy,  10  n. ;  C.'s 
description  of.  2 IS  n. :  visits C. with 
her  brother.  224-227;  228,  231, 
245  n..  249;  goes  to  Germany 
witli  William  Wordsworth.  Cole- 
ridge, and  .John  Chester.  259  ;  with 
her   brother  at  Goslar,  272,  273  ; 


812 


INDEX 


returns  -witli  him  to  Enj^land,  288, 
2U();  ;jll  11.,  ;J4(i,  I'Au.  :',T-'>,  .'385; 
accoinpanies  her  brother  and  C. 
on  a.  tour  in  ^^cothlnd,  4;)1,  43li 
and  note;  aTT,  ")'.*'.•  n. 
Wordsworth,  John,    son  of  William 

AV.,  ->-i:>. 

Wordsworth,  Captain  John,  and  the 
effect  of  his  death  on  C's  spirits, 
41)4  and  note,  4'.)")  and  note,  497. 

Wordsworth,  Thomas,  death  of, 
51»'.»  n. ;  C.'s  love  of,  (500. 

Wordsworth,  William,  10  n.,  1G.3  and 
note,  104  and  note,  218  n. ;  visit 
from  C.  at  Racedown,220  and  note, 
221  :  greatness  of,  221,  224  ;  settles 
at  Alfoxden,  near  btowey,  224  ;  at 
C.'s  cottage,  224-227  ;  C.  visits 
him  at  Alfoxden,  227;  228,231, 

232  ;     suspected     of      conspiracy 
against  the  government,   232    n., 

233  ;  memoranda  scribbled  on  the 
outside  sheet  of  a  letter  from  C, 

,  238  n.  ;  his  greatness  and  amiabil- 
itv,  239 ;  his  Excursion,  244  n., 
337  n.,  585  n.,  041,  042,  645-050  ; 
245  ;  C.'s  admiration  for,  246 ; 
250  n.  ;  accompanies  C.  to  Ger- 
many, 259 ;  208,  209  n. ;  considers 
settling  near  the  Lakes,  270  ;  271 ; 
at  Goslar  with  his  sister,  272,  273  ; 
an  Epitaph  by,  284 ;  returns  to 
England,  288,  290 ;  wishes  C.  to 
live  near  him  in  the  North  of  Eng- 
land, 290 ;  his  grief  at  C.'s  refu- 
sal, 290,  297;  304,  313;  his  and 

^  C.'s  Lyrical  Ballads,  .330,  ;'.37, 341, 
350  and  note,  3S7  ;  his  admiration 
for  Christabel.  3:17 ;  ^538,  342  ;  pro- 
posal from  William  t'alvert  in 
regard  to  sharing  his  house  and 
studying  chemistry  with  him,  345, 
34() ;  his  Stanzas  uritten  in  my 
Pocket  Copy  of  Thomson's  Castle 
of  Indolence,  345  n. ;  348,  350 ; 
marries  Miss  Mary  Hutchinson, 
359  n. ;  303,  307,  370,  373;  his 
opinion  of  poetic  license,  373-375  ; 
C.  addresses  his  Ode  to  Ikjertion 
to,  378  and  note,  379  and  note, 
3S0-384 ;  385-387  ;  his  Ruth,  387  ; 
400,  418,  428 ;  with  C.  on  a  Scotch 
tour,  431-434 ;  his  Peter  Bell,  432 
and  note;  441,  44:];  receives  a 
visit  at  Gra-smere  from  C,  who 
is  taken  ill  there,  447  ;  his  hypo- 


chondria, 448 ;  his  happiness  and 
philosojihy,  449,  A-A) ;  a  most  ori- 
ginal poet,  450;  451  ;  his  To  a 
Highland  Girl,  459;  404,  408; 
his  reference  to  C.  in  The  Prelude, 
380  n. ;  4")2  ;  his  Jirothers,  494  n., 
699  n.  ;  his  Happy  Warrior,  494  n. ; 
extract  from  a  letter  to  Sir  George 
Beaumont  on  John  Wordsworth's 
death,  494  n.  ;  511  and  note,  522  ; 
his  essays  on  the  Convention  of 
("intra,  .534  and  note,  543  and  note, 
548-550  ;  535  ;  his  To  the  Spade  of 
a  Friend,  558  n. ;  543  and  note, 
.540,  522.  55.3  n.,  556;  C.'s  mistm- 
derstanding  with,  576  n.,  577,  578, 
58()-588,  012 ;  his  Essays  upon 
Epitaphs,  585  and  note  ;  a  long- 
delayed  explanation  from  C,  588- 
595 ;  reconciled  with  C,  590,  597, 
599, 612  ;  death  of  his  son  Thomas, 
599  n. ;  second  rupture  with  C, 
599  n.,  00  n. ;  his  projected  poem. 
The  Pecluse,  040,  047  and  note, 
648-0.'i0;  ()78;  on  William  Blake 
as  a  poet,  ()86  n.  ;  his  unfinished 
translation  of  the  ^neid,  733  and 
note,  734  ;  felicities  and  unforget- 
table lines  and  stanzas  in  his  po- 
ems, 734  ;  influence  of  the  Edin- 
burgh Eevietv  on  the  sale  of  his 
works  in  Scotland,  741,  742  ; 
759  n. ;  letters  from  C,  234,  588, 
596,  599,  64;'.,  733. 

Wordsworth,  William,  Life  of,  by 
Rev.  William  Angus  Knight, 
LL.  D.,  164  n.,  220  n.,  447  n., 
585  n.,  591  n.,  .596  n.,  599  n.,  600 
n.,  73.3  n.,  759  n. 

Wordsiroith,  William,  Memoirs  of, 
by  Christopher  Words\vorth,  432 
n..  550  n.,  585  n. 

Wordsworth,  William,  To,  041,044; 
C.  quotes  from,  040,  ()47 ;  047  n. 

Wordsworth,  Mrs.  William,  extract 
from  a  letter  to  Sara  Cohridge, 
220  ;  525.    Set  Hutchinson,  Mary. 

Wordsworths,  the,  visit  from  C.  and 
his  son  Hartley  at  Coleorton  Farm- 
house, .509-514  ;  545  ;  letter  from 
C,  456. 

Wr.angham,  Francis,  363  and  note. 

Wrexham,  77,  78. 

Wright,  Joseph,  A.  R.  A.  (Wright 
of  Derbv),  152  and  note. 

Wright,  W.  Aldis,  174  n. 


INDEX 


813 


Wynne,  Mr.,  an  old  friend  of  South- 

ey's,  6o'J  n. 
Wyville's    proofs    of   C.'s   portrait, 

770. 

Yarmouth,  258,  259. 

Yates,  Miss,  ;}9. 

Yews  near  Brecon,  411. 


York,  Duke  of,  543  n.,  555  n.,  567 

and  note. 
Young,  Edward,  404. 
Youth  and  Age,  730  n. 

Zapolj/a  :  A  Christinas  Tale,  in  two 
Parts,  its  publication  in  book  form 
after  rejection  by  the  Drury  Lane 
Committee,  066  and  note,  667-669. 


IMPORTANT   BIOGRAPHIES. 


Robert  Browning. 

Life  and  Letters.     By  Mrs.  Sutherland  Orr.     With  Portrait 

and  View   of   Browning's  Study.      Uniform  with   Browning's 

Works.     Riverside  Edition.     2  vols,  crown  8vo,  gilt  top,  $3.00. 

A  biography  of  the  very  first  importance,  and  withal  a  work  that  for  readableness 

and  the  admirable  discretion  shown  in  the  choice  and  arrangement  of  material  has 

hardly  a  rival  among  contemporary  memoirs.  —  Boston  Beacon. 

Thomas  Carlyle. 

The  Correspondence  of  Thomas  Carlyle  and  Ralph  Waldo  Emer- 
son. Edited  by  Charles  Eliot 'Norton.  With  Portraits. 
2  vols,  crown  8vo,  gilt  top,  rough  edges,  $4.00;  half  calf,  $8.00. 
Library  Edition.     2  vols.  1 2mo,  $3.00  ;  half  calf,  $6.00. 

The  memory  of  a  fine  friendship.  —  Atlantic  Monthly. 

Frances  Power  Cobbe. 

Her  Life  told  by  Herself.  With  Portrait  and  View  of  her  Home. 
2  vols,  crown  8vo,  gilt  top,  $4.00. 

It  is  as  distinctly  charming  as  it  is  exceptional  to  come  upon  a  writer  who  has 
lived  a  long  life  and  joyfully  acknowledges  that  it  has  been  a  happy  one.  Miss 
Frances  Power  Cobbe  not  only  belongs  to  this  class,  but  so  far  as  any  recent  bio- 
grapher is  concerned,  may  be  placed  at  the  head  of  it.  —  London  Telegraph. 

Maria  Edgeworth. 

Her  Life  and  Letters.    Edited  by  Augustus  J.  C.  Hare.   With  a 
Portrait  and  View  of  her  Home.  2  vols,  crown  8vo,  gilt  top,  $4.00. 
These  letters  constitute  the  first  adequate  and  public  biography  of  one  whom 
Macaulay  regarded  as  the  second  woman  of  her  age.  —  London  Standard. 

Ralph  Waldo  Emerson. 

By  James  Elliot  Cabot.     With  a  new  Portrait.     2  vols,  crown 

Svo,  gilt  top,  $3.50;  half  calf,  $6.00. 
An  admirable  memoir,  full  of  solid  interest.  —  Nnv  York  Tribune. 
Such  a  character  as  his  is  the  greatest  and  most  beneficent  of  human  achieve- 
ments.—  Christum  Union  (New  York). 

Letters  of  Asa  Gray. 

Edited  by  Jane  Loring  Gkay.  With  Portraits  and  other  Illus- 
trations.    2  vols,  crown  Svo,  gilt  top,  $4.00. 

Dr.  Gray  was  an  unusually  attractive  man.  and  his  circle  of  friends  included 
many  of  the  men  and  women  best  worth  knowing  in  Europe  as  well  as  at  home. 
—  The  Congregationalist  (Boston). 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne  and  his  Wife. 

By  Julian  Hawthorne.    With  Portraits  and  \'ignettes.    2  vols. 

crown  Svo,  $5.00;  half  morocco,  or  half  calf.  $9.00. 
An  eminent  English  author  pronounces  this  "  the  most  important  and  interest- 
ing biographical  work  since  Boswell's  Johnson." 


Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow. 

Witli  Extracts  from  liis  Journals  and  Correspondence.     Including 

"  Final  Memorials."     Edited  by  Sa.mukl  Longkkllow.    With 

Portraits  and  Illustrations.     3  vols,  crown  8vo,  gilt  top,  $6.00; 

half  calf,  $9.00  ;  half  calf,  gilt  top,  $9.75. 

It  will  take  its  place  side  by  side  with  the  standard  Boswells  of  literature.  — 
Philadelphia  Press. 

Harriet  Martineau. 

Autol)iography.  With  Memorials  by  Mrs.  M.  W.  Cmai'MAX,  Por- 
traits, and  Illustrations.     2  vols.  Svo,  $6.00  ;  half  calf,  $10.00. 

New  Popular  Edition.  With  Heliotype  of  Statue  by  Anne 
Whitney.     2  vols,  crown  Svo,  gilt  top,  $4.00. 

Her  work  is  so  far  the  best  of  its  kind  that  no  other  autobiographer  deserves  to 
be  named  as  even  second  to  her.  —  New  York  Evening  Post. 

Henry  Crabb  Robinson. 

His  Diary,  Reminiscences,  and  Correspondence.  1789-1866.  Se- 
lected and  Edited  by  Thomas  Sadler.    Cr.  Svo,  gilt  top,  $2.50. 

Crabb  Robinson  was  the  prince  of  story-tellers,  and  this  dehghtful  volume  is 
brimming  over  with  salient  anecdote  and  sagacious  reflection. —  Spectator  (London). 

Sir  Walter  Scott. 

By  John  Gibson  Lockhart.  With  8  steel  Plates.  3  vols.  i2mo, 
$4.50  ;  half  calf,  $9.00. 

Next  to  Boswell's  Life  of  Johnson,  it  will  probably  always  be  considered  as  the 
most  interesting  work  of  biography  in  the  English  language. —  Alison,  History 
of  Europe. 

Sir  Walter  Scott. 

Familiar  Letters  of.  With  a  fine  steel  Portrait  of  Scott  and  an 
Autographic  Plan  of  Abbotsford.     2  vols.  Svo,  $6.00. 

The  magic  that  clings  to  everything  that  came  from  the  pen  of  the  Great  Un- 
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Gazette. 

George  Ticknor. 

Life,  Letters,  and  Journals.  With  two  Portraits  and  Heliotype  of 
Mr.  Ticknor's  Library.     2  vols.  i2mo,  $4.00;  half  calf,  $6.50. 

As  charming  as  Boswell's  Johnson,  Lockhart's  Scott,  Forster's  Goldsmith,  or 
Ticknor's  own  biography  of  Prescott.  —  Dr.  R.  S.  Mackenzie. 

John  Greenleaf  Whittier. 

Life  and  Letters.  By  S.  T.  Pickard.  With  seven  Portraits  and 
Views.     2  vols,  crown  Svo,  gilt  top,  $4.00. 

The  many  letters  contained  in  these  volumes  will  be  found,  in  the  main,  delight- 
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Sold  by  all  Booksellers.     Sent,  postpaid,  by 

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